


You Only Live Twice

by anythingbutplatonic



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Affair era with guns, Angst, Anxiety, Blowjobs, Domestic Fluff, Emmerdale Big Bang Round 3, Fluff, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Attempted Suicide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, James Bond/Bond Girl AU, Loss, M/M, Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Rimming, Shower Sex, handjobs, the one where they're spies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: Robert Sugden is Agent 007, living a life of luxury as MI5′s most prestigious and coveted agent. But when his increasingly reckless behaviour threatens to put his job and his title - not to mention his life - at risk, Madame Secretary is forced to assign him a new assistant to help him toe the line. But Aaron Dingle is unlike anyone Robert has ever worked with before, and the threat he poses to his place at the top of Her Majesty’s Government might just be the one thing that ends up keeping both his feet on solid ground.
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 42
Kudos: 105
Collections: Emmerdale Big Bang Round 3 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is it! My first ever Big Bang fic for Emmerdale and one that I've been working on for several months now, slowly but surely, and it's starting to come to real fruition. It's a work in progress, so new chapters will be updated on a weekly basis as much as is possible and all I ask is that you enjoy this monster of a story, have fun with it, and let me know what you think!
> 
> The beautiful art for this fic was created by @miss-bookworm on Tumblr and it really is a thing of beauty, it captures the themes of the story and the development of Robert and Aaron's relationship wonderfully. I couldn't have asked for a better or more patient artist!

The blood from his knuckles turned pink as the water washed it down the drain, the hot spray hitting the open cuts making Robert hiss in his breath through clenched teeth. A fair bit of the skin had split, making it hard to open and close his fist; blood stained the cuff of his shirt and there was more on his jacket, a mix of both his own and that of the man whose nose he had broken when things had gone south and he’d had to start throwing punches just to get out of there. 

Diane wasn’t going to be pleased. It was  _ supposed _ to be a routine surveillance and extraction job; monitor the target, catch him unawares, steal the briefcase full of counterfeit money. Except Robert’s cover had been blown, he’d found himself pinned against a wall with one of the bodyguards holding a fistful of his tie, threatening to strangle him, and he’d had to fight his way out before MI5 came down on him like a tonne of bricks.

Diane  _ really _ wasn’t going to be pleased.

Wrapping a towel around his aching, bleeding hand, Robert scrubbed his face with the other, trying not to feel too much like a failure. Even in his own reflection in the small mirror above the sink, he looked tired, his cheeks pale. There was a bruise already coming through on his temple, another on his jaw in the exact shape of the thick fingers that had squeezed his windpipe until sheer adrenaline had broken through, his training and instincts kicking in at just the right time. 

Just the right time before he passed out from lack of oxygen, and  _ then _ he would have been in a hell of a lot more trouble. Not just with Diane, but with everyone, because Agent Robert Sugden wasn’t supposed to make mistakes. He wasn’t supposed to get his hands dirty. That’s what made him one of MI5’s most coveted agents. That’s what had led to him being given the mantle of 007 - the organization’s most prestigious title for its most skilled and powerful agent.

Knowing he’d have to brief Diane in the morning, and definitely  _ not _ looking forward to it, he exited the bathroom and headed straight for the bar cart the hotel had provided; pulling his tie free and throwing it somewhere over his head, Robert sank into one of the velvet-backed chairs and poured himself a whiskey somewhat awkwardly one-handed, trying to keep his injured one elevated. The pain was worse now, thumping through his wrist and forearm, and he let his head fall back against the chair with a groan as he took a grateful sip of his drink. The liquid spread a soothing warmth through his chest, relaxing him and taking the edge off. Off of what, he didn’t know, but there was a niggling feeling in his chest, annoyance or irritation, that something so simple had been fudged so badly by  _ him _ .

Robert was no shrinking violet, and neither was he a fool. He’d worked hard to get where he was, but he also knew that it had been a  _ very _ nice benefit of being naturally charming and charismatic, using his good looks and way with people to allow him to slip into different covers, different identities, different stories and scenarios with ease. He was a social chameleon, able to fit into any place with anyone and make it look like he’d been there all his life, and his powers of persuasion were infamous among men and women alike. A few choice words, a drink or several, sleight of hand and well-honed tricks of the spy trade had made Robert Sugden what he was. 

And if all else failed, he was pretty damn lethal with a gun.

Rolling his neck a few times, he poured another drink and gulped it down, savouring the taste of single malt on his tongue. He poured a third measure and then sank deeper into the chair, stretching out his legs and kicking off his shoes, sighing in contentment as he wriggled his socked feet, already feeling a blister or two coming in on the underside of his toes. As much as the ridiculously expensive suits were a luxury he revelled in, they weren’t always the most comfortable things to wear. Not that he’d ever admit that. 

A knock on the door jolted him from his thoughts; before he could call for the person to come in, the door opened and Priya Sharma entered, shrugging off a pinstripe blazer to reveal a spangled velvet corset and a vast expanse of smooth brown skin, shimmering with some kind of body glitter that had a tendency to get everywhere and anywhere. She pulled off a short blonde wig and shook her hair loose, rolling her eyes as she chucked it onto the bed. 

“That thing was  _ killing _ me,” she huffed, “it’s not fair with you men, a bit of wash-in and wash-out hair dye and you’re all sorted, but  _ no _ , I have to wear horrible hot wigs that make my scalp itch.” She frowned. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, hello to you, too,” Robert muttered, but he was smiling. Priya had that effect. As tough as she was beautiful, she also didn’t let him get too highbrow - or lose himself in his ego. It was one of the reasons why he missed having her as an assistant. They worked well together as a team, but she’d been transferred to another division to be closer to her brother and he didn’t see her as often as he would have liked. Priya was alright. She kept him grounded. 

Priya crossed over to him on sky-high heels, swiping his drink from his hand and taking a sip. Robert opened his mouth to retort, but but Priya raised one perfectly-pencilled eyebrow and he shut it just as quickly. 

“The hand?” she prompted, pointing to the fist he still had wrapped in one of the hand towels from the bathroom. 

“I was sloppy,” he admitted. “Blew my cover. Bloke would’ve throttled me if I hadn’t punched his lights out.”

“Oh, dear, the great Robert Sugden is getting his hands dirty,” she tutted. “I hope you didn’t break a nail.”

“Says the woman who won’t even go to the corner shop for milk without false eyelashes on!” Robert laughed. “It bloody hurt, as well, you know. Diane is going to kill me.”

“She won’t,” Priya shook her head. “She likes you too much. You’re her favourite, you know. Jai says she’s always going on about how much potential you’ve got and how far you’ve come.”

“Oh, come on now, I thought you didn’t like stroking my ego,” Robert teased, a smirk forming on his lips. His free hand found the waist of Priya’s skirt and toyed with the material, the fabric stretched taught over her toned thighs. “I thought your job was - and I  _ quote _ \- ‘to stop you from bigging yourself up too much, Sugden, because you’re not all you’re cracked up to be’.”

“Well, you’re not,” Priya said, “but you’re not the worst man I’ve ever worked with.”

“Yeah, we made a great team, didn’t we?” Robert asked, his voice soft, tone suddenly nostalgic. He let his eyes roam Priya’s body appreciatively where she sat perched on the arm of the chair, from her slim wrists and muscled forearms to her long legs, toenails painted gold. Her curves betrayed strength and power, and he’d seen it firsthand. It was hard not to be attracted to that, even if, these days, he considered her more of a friend than a bedfellow. “All those long nights…”

“Damn you, Robert,” she groaned, biting her lip. She shifted where she sat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.  _ Aroused. She was aroused _ . “I thought we were past all of this. Past  _ us. _ ”

“I told you,” Robert replied, his hand coming to rest on her waist. He could smell the faint remnants of her jasmine perfume. “We’re good together, Agent Sharma.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he regarded Priya with hooded eyes. “What’s the harm in one more night, eh?”

That sold the deal; no sooner had the question left his lips than she was uncrossing her legs and swinging herself over, straddling him in the chair. Her lips on his throat and her hands pushing under his starched white shirt, nails scratching across his skin in a way that gave him goosebumps. Mixing pain and pleasure in a way he never thought he’d tire of. 

  
  
  


-

  
  


Diane, as to be expected, was not happy to see his bruised face and swollen hand the next morning, and her disapproving look as he took a seat at the conference table made disappointment twinge once more in his gut. She usually betrayed none of her personal feelings, professional as always and not a hair out of place, but this time she wore an expression that told him,  _ You’ve messed up, Agent _ .

He’d swapped the bloodstained shirt from the previous night for a pale blue one, which complimented the dark grey jacket and tie perfectly. As he’d buttoned it that morning, Priya had told him that it brought out his eyes, all while on her knees as she’d worked him with her mouth. The memory momentarily distracted him from Diane’s annoyance and his own irritation with himself, and he let himself get lost on it as he set about scanning the thin black file that been placed in front of him. Debriefing notes, background info, all connected to the botched mission from the previous night.

She was usually a calm and mild-mannered woman, but Diane really knew when to rub salt into the wound.

Drawing himself up to full height in his chair, he knew he had to get out ahead of things, so before Diane could say anything, he spoke first. “Madam Secretary, I owe you an apology for last night. It got out of hand. I made a misstep. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do,  _ Robert _ ,” she said, shuffling papers about in front of her. Her lips were pursed as she regarded him. “Another mess like last night and I shall have to put you in for a serious review of your conduct in the field.”

“But it was just one punch!” Robert exclaimed, indignant. “I had to fight my way out of there before I got myself killed!”

“And it should never have come to that!” Diane threw back. “ _ You _ blew your cover,  _ you _ got yourself into a right old mess and I’m the one who has to answer to the head honcho about whether or not you’re capable of handling the responsibility of being 007.”

“Oh, come on, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Robert asked, throwing his hands up, ignoring the shooting pain in the one he’d busted and bloodied. “You  _ know _ I’m your best agent. I get the job done and leave no traces. International man of mystery and all that,” he leaned back, smirking, one eyebrow raised. “Everyone falls at my feet, and I get anyone to do anything that I want them to. You’re really going to throw that away for a stupid blip?”

Diane considered this for a moment. “Just because you were my stepson once, doesn’t mean I can treat you any differently to any other agent at this organization,” she said. “ _ One _ more chance. One. And if you mess up again, Agent Sugden, you’ll be out on your ear. Is that understood?”

Resigned, Robert nodded. He thumbed the folder on the desk, not quite able to meet his former stepmother’s eyes. 

He knew she was right. But he also couldn’t afford to lose his confidence, or his edge. Bravado was part of the job; believe you were the best, and you would be the best. Some said Robert was arrogant and vain, even obnoxious, but he’d say it was taking pride in putting your best self forward. No harm in looking sharp, deadly, and desirable all at once. 

It was his signature move, after all.

“I’ll be on my best behaviour, Ma’am,” he replied. “You can count on me.”

  
  


-

He was adjusting his belt, watching Priya re-fasten the very expensive (and very stunning) lacy black bra she had previously been wearing underneath her cream silk blouse, crouched on the marble floor of his office with her hair in disarray when Leyla Harding, Diane’s executive assistant, entered with a  _ clack-clack _ of bright pink heels and a waft of candyfloss perfume. She turned up her nose when she saw Priya, smoothing out her skirt and pulling up her stockings, and Robert felt a flash of disdain at her obvious show of disapproval. What he and Priya enjoyed when they were in each other’s company was nobody’s business except theirs, and if Leyla wanted to be disgusted by his very satisfying sex life, she’d have to do it in private.

Robert turned away from Priya to face her, placing his feet up on the desk and folding his hands over his stomach. He’d be lying if he said the injury still didn’t smart, but he couldn’t let Leyla see that. His nonchalance was a deliberate challenge, to see if she’d dare say anything to his face. She didn’t, but her nose wrinkled even more deeply, and her voice was short and clipped as she handed him another file. This one was blue, and thicker than the last. 

“From Madame Secretary,” she said. “About the new job...that you’re  _ not _ allowed to screw up.” 

One heavily-lined eye roamed around the room, to the papers on the desk, the green plants in the corner that were a gift from his sister, to the heavy stone paperweight holding down a stack of reports and a half-empty bottle of the finest single-malt whiskey Robert dared to purchase, which meant it was the best and the most expensive. He could afford it with his government salary, and he enjoyed every last drop of it. 

“There’s another thing,” she said coolly, her left heel going  _ clack, clack, clack _ on the floor, a tic to show that she was annoyed. And wanted to leave the office as quickly as possible. “Mrs. Sugden told me to tell you you’re getting a new assistant for the job. They’re coming on Monday morning.” 

Robert let his feet drop from the desk with a  _ thud _ . “Oh, she did, did she?” he asked sarcastically. “Obviously she thinks I can’t be left alone. I don’t  _ need _ an assistant.”

“Mrs. Sugden reckons you do,” Leyla said sharply. “I’d listen to her if I were you.” She turned to leave. “Oh, and Agent?” she asked. She gave Priya one last deliberate, measured look of disgust. “Try not to  _ sleep _ with this one.”

The door of the office banged shut, the staccato click of Leyla’s heels echoing as she walked away back down the corridor. 

After a beat of silence, Priya said,“She’s got a point, you know. Maybe keep it in your pants this time, yeah, Robert?”

“Priya, you know me,” Robert replied. “I’m a wanted man. It’s not my fault that women can’t resist me.” 

“Well, it might help if you  _ turn them down _ occasionally,” Priya suggested, folding her arms over her chest. One of the buttons on her blouse was buttoned up incorrectly, showing a bit of lacy bra underneath against smooth skin. This was not helpful, as Robert found his eyes wandering towards it. It was simply instinct; he loved and was attracted to beautiful women. There was nothing wrong with that.

Robert sighed, stretching out in his desk chair and brushing off a piece of lint from his trousers. He spotted something out of the corner of his eye; a scrap of black material, silky and stark against the white marble floor. The instant he recognized it, he scooped it up and turned to Priya with a wicked grin.

“So these aren’t, uh, yours then?” he waved the scrap of fabric triumphantly.on the end of one long finger like a flag. “Or is it just other women’s underwear you have a problem with me taking? Tsk tsk, Priya, I didn’t peg you as the jealous type.”

Priya huffed, reaching to snatch the offending undergarments from Robert’s hand. “I’m  _ not _ ,” she insisted, scrunching them up into a ball and shoving them into the pocket of her skirt. “I’m just saying that you should  _ rethink _ your attitude towards your….assistants.”

“Didn’t bother you ten minutes ago,” he challenged, folding his hands in his lap and smirking up at her. He let the tip of his tongue come out to gently wet his lips, never once breaking eye contact. It worked; for a brief moment, he saw her squirm. Then she huffed again, setting her jaw firmly. 

“ _ Robert _ ,” Priya groaned. “Please, just….as your friend and colleague, I’m asking you to take it easy this time, okay? It’s for your own benefit. One of these days, someone is going to come along and things will go south and you’ll end up getting hurt. Don’t you want a  _ real _ relationship someday?”

“No,” Robert said, his voice clipped with sudden irritation. He didn’t know why this was bothering him, only that he wanted Priya to stop talking about it. “I don’t. I don’t need a relationship. I need to do my job, and one of the benefits of that is that I don’t need to be tied down to anything or anyone.” He smiled his crooked, cocky smile. “I can save the world  _ and  _ have a bit of fun on the side, whenever and wherever I choose to have it.”

“There’s more to life than just work, Robert,” Priya sighed, rolling her eyes as she shrugged her jacket back on over her shoulders, adjusting the lapels as she added, “and there’s more to life than just sex, too. I just don’t want to see you end up lonely and alone.”

“I’m fine, Priya,” Robert assured her. “You don’t have to watch over me like a mother hen all the time. Besides,” he said, picking up the file Leyla had given him and waving it in the air, “it looks like I’ve got some homework to catch up on, so...I'll see you later, for a drink? My treat?”

He prayed that the hopefulness in his voice wasn’t completely obvious, because the truth was, he did enjoy Priya’s company. And the nights spent alone with a fridge full of beer and Sky Atlantic, with no-one to enjoy a rubbish film or go a few rounds on the sofa with under a thick, warming blanket, were starting to leave him with a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and a niggling hole in his chest each time he woke up in the mornings.

But Priya’s expression was sad and disappointed when she replied, “Not tonight, Robert. I’ve got assignments, work to do as well. We can’t all go swanning off like you do every time you bring in a bad guy and want to keep the thrill going till you pass out.”

“Once,” Robert pointed out with a pout of his lips. “That happened  _ once _ .” 

“I’ll see you soon,” Priya said. “Just think about all of it, yeah?” 

And then she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her, leaving Robert alone with his files and the thoughts crowding in his mind about whether or not both she and Leyla were actually right.


	2. Chapter 2

Having been told nothing about this new assistant he was to expect, come Monday morning Robert was planning to be ready and waiting at the top of his game. If she was anything like his previous assistants, she would be glamorous, intelligent, and driven, and his own appearance and demeanour had to reflect that back in order to make an impeccable first impression and make sure she remembered him - and remembered who was in charge.

For that reason, he’d taken more time than usual to get ready, selecting his most sharply-pressed and expensive suit in a deep charcoal black, tying a thin silken tie around his throat with careful hands and applying generous amounts of his most spicy and alluring cologne; enough for any woman to remember the signature scent and be driven wild with the memory of him, the way most beautiful women he’d met in his time were. 

As he examined himself in the mirror, he thought back over the previous assistants he’d had, each as dynamic and compelling as the next, all of them beautiful, all of them a well-chosen match for him. And they’d all fallen over their own feet at the chance to work with the renowned 007.

First, there’d been the White sisters; the eldest, Chrissie, was ruthless and headstrong, while her younger sister Rebecca was bolder and louder, more of a spontaneous free spirit who had the wildest imagination of anyone Robert had met. He’d got on better with her than Chrissie, who was stunning and highly skilled, but rather cold and haughty when it came down to it. With Rebecca, he’d been able to laugh and relax more, and perhaps that was why he’d enjoyed having her in his bed more than he had her sister.

Next had been Alicia, a bubbly girl with next-to-no diplomatic or government background, but who used her ‘girl next door’ air like a weapon and wasn’t afraid to use her perceived naivete against the numerous dangerous men they’d pursued. All she had to do was play the silly little innocent girl looking for a thrill with the kind of men her mother had warned her about, and that was Robert’s way in to destroying them and whatever dirty operation they had going. But she’d eventually been recruited by Interpol and moved to Portugal, where she’d lived now for several years with her young son and the last he’d heard, she was doing alright for herself.

Then there was Priya, the only one he’d actually formed something of a friendship with that had stayed beyond the mission. Smart as a whip, the difference with Priya was that Robert actually liked her and she had been a tempering influence to his riskier impulses.  _ She still is _ , he thought to himself. Her brother Jai didn’t approve of the friendship, or the  _ benefits _ they engaged in, but Priya was intelligent enough to know when to push her loyalty to her family and when to distance herself from it to maintain her own independence.

Checking and double-checking his appearance in the mirror, he felt satisfied that he was going to make the right impression. 

He wondered which one of them the new hire would be most like. Or maybe she’d be something, some _ one _ , different entirely.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

  
  


_

  
  


He was sipping at his too-hot coffee, his third Americano that morning, when the realization came to him that Diane had been having him on. 

There  _ was _ no new assistant. No-one was coming, because no-one had been hired. It was her way of warning him off causing more trouble by threatening him with a chaperone to make him behave. He scoffed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he chewed on the end of his pen absently, turning over another sheet of paper in the file from Leyla. All these years, and she was still treating him like a petulant child instead of a grown man who was more than capable of doing his job. She just didn’t like the way he chose to do it.

Story of his goddamn life.

Taking another gulp of coffee, feeling it scald his throat on the way down, he pulled at his tie and shrugged it off, dumping it on his desk. The  _ nerve _ of her! It was hard to believe that she’d once been family. Then again, when it came to Robert, the notion of ‘family’ had never counted for much.

It was why he was always better off alone. It just worked that way. Nothing got tangled up in his work, nothing got in the way of him doing his job and doing it well, and there were no stakes involved. Exactly how he liked it, and enjoyed it.

He drained his cup and slapped it onto the table with more force than was really necessary. Annoyance gnawed at the pit of his stomach, as well as irritation, and something else that felt almost like embarrassment. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but it left a sour taste at the back of his throat.

“ _ Ahem. _ ” 

The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly made him look up from his moody stare at the wood grain of his desk.

And he came face-to-face with a strange man, standing in the middle of his office. He had his thumbs hooked into the pockets of neat dark trousers that emphasized the strong muscles of his calves, and a well-cut suit jacket drew Robert’s attention to the line of broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and hips. Above the impressively-tailored clothes was a handsome, slightly rough-looking face, a clean jawline shaped by a dark beard below thick eyebrows and piercing blue eyes that were currently glaring right at him.

Something dipped in the pit of his stomach, hot and primal, on a base level instinct; recoiling from it, it was immediately replaced with a kind of nausea that he swallowed down as he shifted in his desk chair and forced his tongue to come unstuck from the roof of his mouth, only for the first words to come out of it to be,  _ “Who the hell are you? _ ”

The stranger smirked, his lips curling up at the edges in a wry half-smile. “I’m Aaron, sir. Aaron Dingle. Mrs Sugden hired me to be your new assistant.”

Robert jumped up from his chair in shock, knocking a pot of pens sideways; a cry of  _ “You’ve got to be joking! _ ” bursting from his lips.

Aaron rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Expectin’ some glam bird in heels and lipstick, were ya?” He looked down at himself, throwing his arms wide. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m useless at runnin’ in heels.”

“This isn’t funny!” Robert stuttered. “If this is Diane’s idea of a joke - to try and get me to submit to her, to keep me in check - it won’t work!”

“Alright,” Aaron ceded, folding his arms across his broad chest. Robert tried not to look at the way the material of his shirt stretched across his muscles. “Say this is a wind-up. What would I get out of it, eh?”

“A promotion. A higher salary, anything you wanted!” Robert said crossly. “”There’s got to be something you’re doing this for.”

“Or maybe I’m just good at my job,  _ Mr. _ Sugden,” Aaron said sourly, the formal title sounding like an insult on his tongue. “Why else would I want to work for a puffed-up tit like you?”

The jibe hit exactly where he’d intended it; furious, Robert ground his jaw audibly, clenching and unclenching his fist in his lap to try and stop himself from swinging it at the bloke’s face. The smirk was back again, as was a sparkle in Dingle’s eyes that made it difficult for Robert to look away, despite the colour high on his cheeks and how -  _ patronized _ he felt.

Yes, patronized. By a man well below his rank, who talked with a broad country accent that smacked of a rural upbringing and next to no class or decorum, who thought he could simply waltz into his office and make jabs at him. 

It was a feeling he didn’t like. It was the feeling of being out of control.

None of his other assistants had ever made him feel like this.  _ He _ had always been the one in charge.  _ Always _ . That was how it had worked. That was how it had always worked.

And in five minutes flat, that pre-existing equilibrium had been shattered.

A tense silence stretched between them for a few moments, neither saying or doing anything except daring the other to resume the terse back-and-forth of the last few minutes. 

Swallowing his pride - and several more sharp retorts - Robert picked up the file and extended it towards Aaron. “Read this. Meet me in Conference Room 102 in an hour.” 

The other man gave a curt nod, tucking the file under his arm. “Yes,  _ sir _ .” Then he added, “Is that all you need?”

_ I need you to go away _ , Robert thought, but he held his tongue. Instead he replied, as politely as he could, “No, thank you. One hour,” he reminded him.

“So I guess I’ll see you then,” Aaron said. Stating the obvious, though Robert couldn’t fathom what for.

Nonetheless, he replied coolly, “I guess you will.”

_ And try not to throw my desk across the room in the meantime _ , he thought snidely.

He definitely didn’t watch Aaron Dingle’s arse as he turned on his heel and left, not looking back even once.

Definitely, definitely not.

\---

Robert purposefully strode at a pace he knew was too quick down the corridor that led back to his office, forcing Aaron to speed up his own walk to keep up with him; he could hear the man grunting under his breath, muttering about how Robert was  _ rude _ and a  _ show-off _ and a  _ stuck-up sod _ , but he ignored him resolutely. If he was going to be forced to have a babysitter, he wasn’t going to make it easy for him, was he? That would be giving in and admitting he  _ needed _ a chaperone, or that he agreed with Diane’s assessment of his inability to do as he was told. Which he didn’t.

“So you know what the plan is,” he said as he walked, “it’s a three-day surveillance mission, following the target and learning his every move. Where he goes, who he meets, what he does, even what he eats for lunch, if necessary. This guy is dangerous, he’ll be armed to the teeth most likely and he’ll have an entourage. Our job is to stay away and stay on his tail. Any evidence of the low-life stuff he’s involved in, which is anything from drug trafficking to arms deals, it gets reported  _ straight away _ . Got that?”

“Not being funny or anything’, but isn’t recon a bit below your pay grade?” Aaron asked, half genuinely curious and half sarcastic; it made Robert’s blood boil to hear the mockery in his tone.

“Isn’t it a bit below yours to criticize  _ my _ job?” he snapped back. “You’re being paid to watch my back and act as an extra pair of eyes and ears, that’s all. You don’t get to undermine me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so bloody pretentious!” Aaron spat, stopping in the middle of the corridor and facing Robert with an expression like thunder. “If you want some bird to fall at your feet and swoon over ya, you’ve really got a jumped up opinion of yourself. Not everyone wants to dance to your little tune of being 007, God’s gift to the universe or whatever it is you think you are. I’ve barely met ya and it’s obvious you’re so damn arrogant that you think you’re above everythin’ and everyone. No wonder your own stepmum hired  _ me _ to keep ya in line.”

That was it; Robert lunged for Aaron, furious. He grabbed him by the tie and shoved him up against the wall, hard; Aaron’s head connected with the wall with a thud, but he didn’t pay any attention to that. Instead, he forced him up against the wall further with his body, his jaw clenched so tightly he thought it might break, and stared him down with all the anger he could possibly muster.

“ _ You _ ,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “you don’t know  _ anything _ about me, you got that? As far as I’m concerned, I have to get through this job to prove to Diane that I’m not incompetent, and then you’re  _ gone _ . Disappeared. I never have to see you again.” He shoved his fist further up against Aaron’s throat, watching as he strained against the pressure on his windpipe. “You’re nothing to me, alright? You’re just a glorified bodyguard. I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“What, you gonna threaten a gay bloke, now?” Aaron taunted him. “Dead brave of ya, that, isn’t it?”

_ What? _

“You’re - you’re  _ gay _ ?” Robert stuttered, his eyes huge where they were fixed on Aaron’s face. His cheeks were red, whether from the difficulty of breathing against Robert’s hold on his throat or something else, he couldn’t tell. Up close, he could feel the heat radiating from his body, the warmth of his breath across his cheeks and the heave of his chest. Robert could see every precise shade of blue in Aaron’s eyes. The look in them was one of fire, deep and challenging, a look that said,  _ Go on, say something. I dare you _ .

He felt all of his anger drain from him at once, knocking him sideways like he’d been hit in the chest; letting go of Aaron, he staggered backwards, feeling ashamed of himself, the roiling anger he’d felt before being replaced by a wave of guilt and disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. He couldn’t quite meet Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t know what came over me. Forgive me.”

“I know a thing or two about havin’ stuff you don’t wanna talk about,” Aaron said sympathetically, massaging his chest where Robert had held onto his tie too tightly. “S’alright. I won’t tell anyone you lost it on me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not,” Robert replied, shaking his head. “And there’s nothing to tell. Okay?”

“Robert-”

“It’s  _ Agent Sugden _ to you,” he snapped, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket. “Alright? From now on, we talk only about the mission, and forget this ever happened. Got that?”

“Fine by me,” Aaron acquiesced with a grunt. His eyes, where Robert dared to look up to meet them, betrayed the emotional whiplash he felt, and Robert almost felt bad again for losing it on the poor bloke.

The disappointment was there again, deep in the pit of his stomach, like he’d swallowed a stone. Disappointment in himself, for behaving so...out of control. Unlike himself. 

Behaving so  _ hypocritically _ .

“You should pack as soon as possible,” Robert said. “We’ve got seventy-two hours of surveillance ahead of us and you need to be ready. Travel light, we can’t look suspicious. I meant what I said, it’s a dangerous assignment. You need to make yourself look practically invisible.”

“Not a problem,” Aaron said. “I’m not the attention-seeker here.”

Robert clenched his jaw against a retort to Aaron’s aside; instead, he continued, “Be ready to leave in three hours.”

“Done,” Aaron replied, jerking his chin in his direction in a gesture of agreement. He added, rather coldly, “Ya know, I  _ am _ good at my job. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

_ Somehow I doubt that _ , Robert thought, already picturing how the man would take up all of his mental space in the days to come - bold as brass, rude, contrary, with an attitude that made him think he was better somehow because he’d come from nothing and worked up from the bottom of the barrel, or whatever tragic backstory he was sure Aaron Dingle had cooked up to sway Diane to hire him.

He imagined sitting in a surveillance car with him, for hours, his short, stocky frame filling the space, so close that he’d be able to smell whatever aftershave he’d used that morning on the dark beard that made Robert want to run his fingertips against it, to feel whether the hair there was coarse and wiry or smooth and soft. 

He imagined watching him watch their mark, blue eyes intense and focused, gaze firmly on whatever was happening in front of them and undistracted by anything or anyone else.

Another image flashed through his mind;  _ ripping Aaron Dingle’s shirt and tie from his body, pressing himself up against him, bare skin against bare skin, mouthing hotly at his neck while his hands wandered south, down, down…. _

“You listenin’ to me or what, or are ya just gonna stand there and ignore me?” 

Robert brought himself back into the moment with a start, the daydream disappearing as quickly as it had come; the ghostly imprint of Aaron’s imaginary lips on his skin fading into nothing as he stared at Aaron and realized he’d been talking to him for the last few minutes.

“I  _ said _ , I’ll see ya in three hours then, right? That still  _ is _ the plan, yeah? Or was I not here for the conversation we just had?” he snarked, gesturing exaggeratedly with his hands as he drew his mouth down into a sarcastic pout. 

Still rude, then. Nothing seemed to have changed in the last few minutes. It was almost a shame, Robert thought.

“Keep your face like that, it’ll stay that way,” Robert snorted. 

Aaron just rolled his eyes in response. “At least my face has more than one expression, mate.”

Robert sighed irritably, knowing that he had to change tack. “Look, you don’t like me, and believe me, I am less than impressed with  _ you _ . But we’ve got a job to do that’s above either of us, so leave the face and the attitude behind and I’ll try not to have you against a wall again, alright?”

Aaron flushed to the tips of his ears; and Robert, upon realising the connotations of his own words, felt that  _ some _ thing hot and tight in the pit of his stomach once more, coiling like a snake and settling there between his thighs. He was aware that his trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight, every ounce of blood rushing south in a betrayal by his body of what he’d always cultivated so carefully in his head. The tight lid he’d kept on his darkest, most shameful impulses starting to loosen and threatening to let something he had never let anyone see slip through the cracks.

He drew himself to full height, breathing deeply to reign in the rush of arousal coursing through his body.  _ Calm down _ , he willed himself.  _ Just bloody calm down _ .

He focused his gaze on a spot of the bare, beige wall just to the right of Aaron’s head, and spoke to it rather than him as he said, “Let’s just reconvene in three hours and get this show on the road, yeah?”

“You’re the one that’s keepin’ us both here,” Aaron shrugged, broad shoulders drawing the material of his suit jacket tight. Robert’s mouth watered. “But yeah, I think I can agree with ya on that.”

“Fine,” Robert replied. “Finally we agree on something. Three hours, then?”

“Yeah,” Aaron smirked, his lips curling up ever so slightly. “Three hours.”

Robert only hoped that his self-control could last until then, or he thought he might explode.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the  _ very _ comfortable and not at all small shower, Robert let the hot spray pummel his back and soak him from head to toe, the heat and steam rising all around him doing wonders for clouding his mind and stopping him from thinking about all things  _ Aaron Dingle _ . __

He’d just met the man, barely had any semblance of a normal conversation with him, and yet there he was, at the forefront of Robert’s mind, all dark hair and frowns and large hands that told of years of manual labour, possibly an engineer or a mechanic, before Her Majesty’s government had recruited him to be the newest thorn in 007’s side.

_ And in other places _ , he thought, as Robert’s mind wandered once more to how Aaron had looked when he’d had him by the throat up against the wall. He’d been furious and frustrated, annoyance at having to be babysat by a moody bodyguard brimming over into seething rage; he recalled the way Aaron’s eyes had darkened from crystalline to the colour of a midnight sky in seconds, long lashes like a woman’s blinking slowly against red cheeks. 

Robert remembered the fullness of his lips, and the heat and smell of him, like freshly-washed laundry and something like motor oil and a deep, musky cologne that he’d only had seconds to inhale into his greedy nostrils before he’d been pushing him away again, scrabbling backwards, completely discomposed and fumbling.

He let the memory fill him up now, letting out a long groan into the water as his hands slipped of their own accord down over his stomach, over his thighs, and he curled a hand around himself, hissing through clenched teeth as he lost his battle with the arousal that had been building, slowly but surely, ever since their angry encounter in the corridor outside his office. 

His fist tight, he pulled in long, slow strokes as he rose up onto his tiptoes and canted his hips forwards into the pleasure of it, the hot spray making everything slippery but still just rough enough that the friction only spurred him on. He saw Aaron again in his mind’s eye, his hard jaw and fiery eyes, the softness of his cheeks above thick dark stubble, and he imagined putting his mouth there, hot and wet, sucking kisses into his throat that left purple-red marks when he pulled away. Aaron’s big, calloused hands would run themselves all over Robert’s body, pressing hard into the solid muscles of his arms and chest, well-honed from years of combat training with the Secret Service, and their mouths would finally meet in a dirty, hungry kiss that left them moaning and gasping. Robert using his height to his advantage to crowd Aaron up against another wall, any wall, and push a leg between both of his to feel just how hard he was, how hard Robert had made him, even as he spat insults and complained and tried to make it clear how much he disdained Robert.

Robert let out another moan, reaching down to squeeze the head of his cock firmly, the pleasure-pain of it making his blood sing and his skin burn. Using his other hand, he massaged the underside with two fingers, tracing the veins there with feather-light fingertips that were enough to make him bite down hard on his bottom lip lest he cry out too loudly. In any other situation he would be ashamed, embarrassed, horrified by his own behaviour; but this time he didn’t care. He was too far gone, wrapped up in his own fantasy, and curled his fist tighter and moved faster as the Aaron in his head palmed his arse through his trousers, fingers dancing right where Robert wanted them, then pulling away just as quickly. He imagined himself curled against his strong body, whining into the sweaty skin of his neck, begging for what he really wanted without using any words, because words by that point would have failed him.

He didn’t know what it was about Aaron, but he’d got under his skin and into his head, and it was impossible now to shake off the hard, flinty glares or the  _ I dare you to have a go at me _ attitude that made both Robert’s blood boil and his desire for something, anything, any _ one _ to challenge him and push him to his boundaries flare up. He’d thought he was fine, happy with the way things were, and thought there was no need to change anything; but apparently - and he could not believe that he was agreeing with Diane on this - there was.

Because Diane had hired Aaron Dingle, and now everything inside his head and his body was a mess, despite knowing that they had a job to do and a highly dangerous international drug, arms, and human trafficker to catch. 

Stumbling backwards to brace himself against the slick tiles of the shower, Robert bit down hard on his bottom lip and ground out low moans through a clenched jaw as he pumped his hips even faster into his own hand. He could feel the delicious, pleasurable shake starting to creep up through his legs, making his calves and thighs burn and his toes curl into the floor of the shower, his panting breaths matching the rhythm of his hips and almost completely disguised by the rush of the spray still pounding his body. With the steam clouding all around him, the water  _ thump _ -ing off the sides and floor of the space in a cacophony of bouncing droplets, he let himself moan as loudly as he dared, loud enough for him to feel it deep in his chest and rubbing his throat raw. 

With fast, rough strokes right over the head of his cock, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to that delicious edge, and the last thought in his mind was of Aaron scraping that thick beard over the sensitive skin of his thighs as his pleasure exploded white-hot behind his screwed-shut eyelids, and he came with a strangled groan of  _ “A-Aaron!” _

It was all-consuming; he hadn’t felt that kind of explosion of pleasure in a long, long time, not even with Priya, and as he softened against one wet thigh and the shower spray washed his come down the drain, he sank to the floor with shaky legs and harsh breaths, covering his eyes with one hand and just needing to….sit.  _ Relax _ .

Because he did feel relaxed, in a way that was bone-deep and immensely satisfying. He hadn’t felt like  _ that _ in a long, long time either.

He tried not to think too much about  _ why _ ; instead, he revelled in the blissful feeling, without putting too much emphasis on the context of it, before he eventually had to climb out from under the steam and water, get dressed, and go out to tackle the assignment he’d been given. 

  
  


***

For the surveillance part of the mission, plain clothes had been insisted on, as a way of staying incognito; looking conspicuous in a suit that cost a grand a half meant a surefire way of getting caught, and Robert was  _ not  _ looking to get caught. So instead, he’d opted for plain jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, under a smart but still casual navy blue jacket. His cover image was that of a businessman, not too rich but still pretty well-off, someone important with enough influence in a small circle to be  _ some _ body but not a Richard Branson wannabe.

When he saw Aaron, however, he decided that  _ his _ particular cover image of choice was ‘lazy bum who still lived like a student despite having graduated from university several years ago’.

He was waiting by the car that would escort them to their location and to the safe house they were going to be using, and he turned when he heard the main doors of the office headquarters open and the trundle of suitcase wheels on the flagstones. He couldn’t help but scoff under his breath when he saw Aaron coming towards him in baggy dark jeans and a faded purple hoodie, sleeves pushed up to expose his forearms. There was a dark stain that might have been motor oil on one leg of the jeans. As he came closer, Robert could see that the fabric of the hoodie had started to pill with wear. 

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize the brief was ‘dirty greasemonkey’.”

“You’re the one who looks like some Richard Branson wannabe, mate,” Aaron jibed back, and Robert felt his stomach sink a little.  _ Dammit _ . That was exactly the comparison he had been trying to avoid, and Aaron had noticed, which meant that other people might too. 

Aaron studied him for a moment, resting a hand on his hip and pushing the flaps of the hoodie back, showing the soft-looking dove grey t-shirt he was wearing underneath. It pulled taught over the muscles of his stomach and chest, and Robert’s eyes were momentarily drawn there before Aaron spoke again. “I thought we were supposed to be incognito, not buttoned up to the neck like some weird fancy monk or summat.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with looking smart, Agent Dingle,” Robert said defensively. “It might be beyond  _ your _ rank and understanding, but I happen to like looking sharp. It’s what people expect of me.”

“And what about what you want, eh?” Aaron asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you always lookin’ to chase what you think other people want ya to instead of what you actually want?”

The question was too pointed, too intense, and Robert flushed under Aaron’s knowing gaze. He was too quick. Too observant. He seemed to be able to pierce right through Robert and get under every careful layer of protection he’d given himself over the years just so that he could survive, like the point of a laser eating away at solid metal and leaving a clear, round hole with a view straight through to the other side.

Standing on the gravel in the open air, the imposing building of MI5 rising up behind them, Robert felt himself squirm where he stood, and suddenly he had to lean against the passenger door of the car just to steady himself. 

Aaron cocked his head to the side, biting down on his bottom lip, eyes screwed up in a squint as he looked Robert up and down, then up, then down again. Finally his gaze came back up once more and he said decisively, “You need to lose the jacket.”

“Excuse me?” Robert sputtered, not sure whether he’d heard him properly.

“Take your jacket off, c’mon,” Aaron said, gesturing with his hands in his direction. “You’ll look less constipated this way, it’ll work, I promise.”

Robert was unsure. And he certainly didn’t need to take orders from someone who worked  _ for _ him, not with him. 

Aaron sighed in frustration, rubbing his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “Do you trust me or not?”

The question was like a bullet, straight to the chest, incapacitating him where he stood and burning.

_ Do you trust me or not? _

_ Do you trust me? _

Robert knew, deep down, that everything he did in his job was ultimately about trust. Every partner he’d ever worked with, every team he’d been a part of, you had to be able to trust them without fail. If you didn’t, it was a matter of life and death. 

“You’re not going to leave me alone if I don’t do it, are you?” Robert eventually asked with a sigh. 

Aaron grinned. “Nope,” he said, emphasising the ‘p’. “It’s me job, remember?”

“Unfortunately,” Robert muttered, but he was surprised to find himself not putting any real malice into it. Instead, his lips quirked into something of an ironic smile. Aaron looked triumphant and folded his arms, clicking his tongue while he waited for Robert to do as he’d suggested.

With another sigh, Robert shrugged off his jacket and folded it over one arm. He held out his other hand in an invitation for Aaron’s approval. “Happy?”

Aaron appraised him, looking him up and down again with his tongue poking out between his lips as if in concentration. He swore his gaze lingered for a moment on Robert’s now bare forearms, his shoulders and chest, where the fitted material of his shirt clung to the muscle there. 

“You’ll do,” was Aaron’s eventual reply, which Robert supposed was his way of saying  _ Yes _ . “For a posh git.”

“Are you ever going to stop making wisecracks?” Robert asked, reaching for the car door and pulling it open on the passenger’s side, “because it’s going to get boring if that’s all you’ve got in terms of making conversation.”

“Didn’t realize we had to make small talk,” Aaron shrugged, half-sliding into the seat where Robert held the door open for him; the smooth leather interiors gleamed with polish, and he saw the way Aaron’s curious eye roamed over the black-and-chrome dashboard with interest. Robert went to put their bags in the boot of the car, then slipped into the driver’s seat next to Aaron with practised ease, stretching out his legs and revving the engine so that it purred to life, a slick, quiet rumble that proved just how expensive and lucrative the car was. 

“What kind of car is this, then?” Aaron asked, feigning nonchalance, but Robert had seen the gleam in his eyes when he’d seen the inside of it, how excited he’d gotten, the way his blue eyes shone with interest and passion. Aaron was into cars, and it made his whole face look younger - sweeter, somehow, more boyish, instead of the deep scowl that Robert had begun to think was permanently etched there making him look like a miserable old man.

He liked it. 

Robert pulled smoothly out of the drive, the tires rolling on the gravel, and then they were out on the road flanked by high-rise buildings and offices, the sprawling outline of the wealthiest part of the city framing them on each side.

“It’s an Audi,” Robert said, tapping his fingers on the wheel in a random rhythm as he drove. “It’s brand new, only got it last year, so don’t even think about spilling coffee or anything in it. No eating, no drinking, no bringing any of your dirty greasemonkey  _ whatever _ inside this car, got it?”

“Awww,” Aaron cooed, his smile beaming, “this car’s like your baby, isn’t it? 007’s baby.”

“No, it’s not!” Robert protested. “I just take pride in my choice of transportation, Dingle.”

“Bet you pay some poor bloke to wax it, don’t ya?” Aaron continued, laughing even harder now, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. “Tell me you do. It would explain  _ so  _ much about ya.”

“Shut it, Agent, I mean it,” Robert gritted out, tightening his grip on the steering wheel more than was necessary; he was only irritated because, well, Aaron was right, he didn’t want to admit to it, and also because he looked really, really good with his head thrown back and his eyes screwed up in his laughter, making the edges of his eyes crinkle up in a way that Robert thought was sort of endearing.

“Oh,  _ mate _ ,” Aaron shook his head in disbelief, though he seemed to be talking more to himself than to Robert, “how did I go from being a mechanic in my uncle’s garage to working for the Secretary of MI5 and gettin’ thrown right into it with  _ 007 _ of all people?”

“Does everything have to be a joke to you?” Robert hissed, feeling his annoyance return slowly, creeping up into his veins and making his blood pressure rise. 

“No,” Aaron said with a shrug. “But it helps when things go wrong to be able to laugh about it. Learned that the hard way, I s’pose. Now it’s somethin’ I do to keep myself sane when stuff goes up the creek.”

It was an unexpectedly profound statement, and Robert was taken aback by it; he suddenly found himself gawping at Aaron and not watching the road, searching out the seriousness that had appeared in his eyes, the sad tension in his jaw, the slight wobble of his chin as he was transported back to some memory or another that Robert wasn’t privy to. 

He found himself wanting to ask,  _ What happened? _

_ What made you veil your demons with sarcasm and humour? _

_ Would you even tell me? _

“SUGDEN!” Aaron yelled, breaking Robert from his reverie and lunging across the seat to grab hold of the steering wheel, jerking it harshly as Robert all too late realized that in his daze he’d drifted into the middle of the road and the car was careening towards an enormous white transit lorry on their left.

His heart slammed against his ribcage as Aaron pulled the car with force back into the middle of the lane, his hands warm and calloused on top of Robert’s own and his grip tight enough to leave red grooves on Robert’s fingers. The driver of the lorry honked his horn long and loud, the blast of it shaking Robert into submission as Aaron stared at him in disbelief - and fury.

“What the  _ hell _ were you thinkin’?” he half-shouted, “you could’ve killed us both, you stupid  _ arse _ ! I thought you were the one who was supposed to be in charge!”

“I know,” Robert gasped, trying to gulp air into his lungs, but he couldn’t seem to get quite enough. “I know, I’m sorry, I-”

“Diane was right,” Aaron said, rubbing a hand across his face and beard, which unfortunately drew Robert’s attention back to the column of his throat, “you really are a reckless son of a bitch, aren’t ya?”

“I’m sorry,” Robert repeated again, quietly. The idea that he’d disappointed Aaron was, somehow, a terrible one, and one that made acid curl in his stomach. If he had to work with him - if he wanted them to have something of a cordial relationship - he was going to have to do something about it without either looking completely obnoxious or like he was  _ too _ interested in Aaron as a person, and not just in his skills and experience that made him good at his job. 

Aaron dismissed his apology with an exasperated shake of the head. “Just don’t try and make us roadkill again, alright?” 

Silence followed, as Robert drove - paying close attention to the road this time - and the built-up cityscape transformed into rolling hills and flat countryside. They were heading north, just outside Leeds, and the change from grey blocks of flats and large industrial factories to fields and foliage was both relaxing and brought something up in Robert that made his tension spike, anxiety worrying the edges of his nerves in the same way it always did when he left the safe, secure sprawl of the big city. 

If Aaron noticed how his jaw clenched slightly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening so that the knuckles went white in-between the patches of red, split skin that were starting to bruise dark purple, he said nothing. In fact, he didn’t seem to be aware of Robert at all anymore, flicking through the case files they’d been given with his tongue poking out between his lips and a furrow of concentration on his brow. Every so often, the furrow would deepen as he read a particular part of a page with more intention, or he’d chew on his bottom lip as he focused and tried to digest and understand a piece of information in front of him.

After their near-miss, he knew he had to be careful, and he knew he had to keep his simmering desire for the man across from him in check. For more reasons than just one, because every push-pull and barking argument between them, every snide remark and taunt they parried, pushed Robert closer to  _ not _ finding Aaron all that irritating as he might have done - or wanted to.

And that was not only unusual; it could be dangerous. 

***

Three hours into the drive and their rumbling stomachs let them know that it was time to stop and re-fuel, so Aaron put away the files and Robert pulled into a service station where they could energize themselves with crap coffee and convenience food. The almost-crash had shaken him slightly more than he wanted to admit, so the promise of a greasy, sugary boost was welcome.

And it would give him something to do with his hands that didn’t involve wanting to spread them over Aaron’s thighs and squeeze as he took him into his mouth, the way he’d been imagining for the last  _ hour _ .

Amazingly, Aaron offered to get them the sustenance they would need, and was climbing out of the car before Robert could protest; he had a credit card for this sort of stuff, everything got charged onto it and it would then be listed as expenses that Diane would pay for, everything from the finest hotel suites to a sandwich. Robert didn’t actually have to pay for a thing, not really. He’d grown accustomed to it. It was one of the many perks of the lifestyle he had chosen, the career he had, and the rank to which he’d risen within it. 

But somehow he didn’t think Aaron would like him flashing his cash around, so he stayed in the car while Aaron went to get them the essentials. He told himself it  _ wasn’t _ so he could watch the sway of his hips and the broadness of his shoulders in that soft purple hoodie as he walked away, but he’d have been lying.

His phone buzzed to life where it rested in the glove compartment, next to a handful of loose change and half-eaten bag of lemon sherbets he’d honestly forgotten were in there. One glance at the screen let him know that it was Priya.

_ Priya Sharma: Fallen in love with the new bodyguard yet, Whitney? _

Robert groaned, letting his head fall back against the headrest with a dull  _ thump _ . He closed his eyes, then blinked them open, slowly, trying to figure out what kind of biting comeback he should make. Did  _ everyone _ except him think this was funny? He could only imagine the smirk on Leyla Harding’s face, her know-it-all expression emphasized by the raise of her thick, darkly-pencilled eyebrows, laughing at his expense over her numerous coffee breaks.

In the end, he could only write _ I am NOT Whitney Houston!!!! _ With multiple exclamation marks followed by several of the small red Devil emojis. Hopefully Priya would get the hint that he wasn’t about to tolerate being made a mockery of, especially by someone he considered his longest friend, professionally if not personally.

_ Priya Sharma: I am amazed that you’ve actually seen The Bodyguard. I didn’t think you would have understood the reference. _

_ Robert Sugden: Contrary to popular belief, Priya, I do watch movies. I have a life. _

_ Priya Sharma: Shagging in bar toilets and drinking single malt by yourself isn’t a life, Robert. _

And there she went again, trying to psycho-analyze him and tell him that he was lonely and needed a real companion. Like she knew what was going on inside his head and could tell him his own wants and desires  _ for _ him. 

He tutted under his breath, threw the phone back into the glove compartment with a huff without replying. He was fine. He  _ was _ . Priya didn’t understand him the way she liked to think she did, and it wasn’t her place to be butting in and telling him he was going to end up a miserable old grouch if he didn’t _ “find someone” _ .

He wasn’t completely incompetent, and neither was he so desperately single as Priya made him out to be. 

A sharp rap on the window brought him back to attention. He turned to see Aaron grinning, holding up a tray of steaming takeaway coffee cups proudly. He opened the door and climbed in, the heady aroma of dark brew coffee filling the car as well as Robert’s nose. 

“Didn’t know how you liked it, so I got a bit of everythin’,” he said, indicating the tiny pots of milk, creamer, and packets of sugar - both brown and white - piled high next to the cups. “Dunno what it’s gonna taste like, mind, but it should be enough to keep us goin’ till we get to the safe house.”

“Thanks,” Robert said, reaching for one of the cups, “plain black is fine.” It was too hot, so he blew on it a little, before taking a sip and immediately the bitter tang made him feel calmer. More steady. 

Next to him, Aaron dumped three packets of sugar into his own cup. Robert winced. 

Unfortunately for him, it must have been an obvious physical recoil, because Aaron noticed it and said, “Listen, mate, you do what you need to do to get through a job. Can’t stand the taste of the stuff without it, keeps my head clear and focused.” He knocked a plastic bag on the floor with his foot. “Got some food in there, too, if ya want.” 

Aaron suddenly went pink, biting his lip. Bending down, he rooted in the bag - giving Robert a good view of his shoulders and the muscles in his back, pulled taught under the material of his t-shirt and hoodie - and resurfaced with a brown paper bag curled up at the top. “Um, I got ya somethin’. A peace offerin’, like.” 

Robert took the bag from him curiously and opened it - and inside was a chocolate and strawberry donut, thick with icing and covered in sugar.

_ His favourite. _

He felt like he’d stopped breathing. 

“I overheard one of the office girls talkin’ about how you had a sweet tooth,” Aaron said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I thought it might, y’know, make ya hate me less. Bribing the boss, an’ all that.”

“You don’t-” Robert didn’t know how to speak; the words got suddenly stuck in his throat. It was stupid, ridiculous, completely insane that something as banal as an iced donut given as a peace offering by a reluctant co-worker should have touched him so profoundly. Instead he said, “I don’t hate you.”

_ I’m attracted to you, and  _ that _ is what I hate _ .

Aaron snorted. “Could’ve fooled me, mate.”

“Sorry,” Robert heard himself saying. He didn’t know why, but he felt he needed to. There was just something about Aaron that made him feel very aware of how much of an arrogant arse he could be. Maybe it was because he got the sense that Aaron didn’t like it, and he wanted to show him he wasn’t all like that. Somehow, he felt like he had to prove himself to him.

“This…” he continued, gripping the bag so that his knuckles went white, drawing attention to the bruising that lingered there, making the split skin sting, “this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long while.” 

It was the most honest thing he’d said so far, and once the words were out, they made a certain something bloom in his chest; immediately followed by a bitter churning in his stomach that made him wonder with sudden panic if he’d gone too far.

Aaron just squirmed in his seat, his face pink, and mumbled with a flap of his hand, “Alright, alright, it’s just a donut. We need to get goin’, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Robert agreed, and he mentally kicked himself at how breathless his voice sounded. Like he’d just run a marathon, or been in hand-to-hand combat. “Yeah, we do.”

As if on autopilot, Robert gunned the engine once more and drove them out of the station; once they were back on the main road, he couldn’t help but glance every so often at Aaron, blushing warmth still in his cheeks and his eyes doing their damned best not to fix themselves on Robert for more than a few seconds at a time.


	4. Chapter 4

The safe house was a squat red brick building with ivy cascading down the front and a post-box red front door, a bicycle propped up against one wall beneath a window that had several plants in it. It was a bit twee for Robert’s liking, and he grimaced as he took in the tangle of boots inside the porch and the fat black-and-white cat lazing on the mat there, licking its paws, looking like it owned the place.

It was all a bit  _ Hansel and Gretel _ , and it made him uncomfortable. Not least because Aaron had taken one look at the front of the house and immediately raised both eyebrows to his hairline, a sarcastic remark no doubt already forming in his mind. 

Robert could still taste the coffee and the sugary donut on his tongue, eaten with embarrassing relish when Aaron had gone to use the toilet at another rest stop. He’d made sure he’d been completely out of sight before going as far as to lick the strawberry jam from his fingers the way a child might devour a slice of cake. 

When Aaron had returned, he’d said matter-of-factly, “You’ve got jam on your face.”

Robert had blinked, confused, then embarrassed; Aaron’s eyes rested on his face with an intensity he couldn’t figure out, and when Robert had licked around his mouth to wipe away the offending smudge he’d sworn he’d seen Aaron follow the path of his tongue with dark, lust-blown eyes.

But he also could have been imagining it. And he needed to remain professional.

The black SUV parked on the drive belonged to the security personnel who would be accompanying them for the duration of the surveillance job; a pair of brothers, if Robert remembered correctly. The older, taller one with shoulders as wide as the Amazon river, Pete, was alright; his smaller, scrawnier partner Ross, on the other hand, had a weasel face that Robert didn’t trust and he somehow always managed to make Robert want to punch him in the face. 

Robert hated Ross.

He was nowhere to be seen, however, and it was Pete who came to the car to help them unload their luggage; upon seeing Aaron, he broke into a huge grin.

“Mate, I didn’t know you were working this job!” he crowed, bringing Aaron in for a hug and clapping him on the back affectionately. “What’dya do to get landed with Sugden then, eh?”

“More like what  _ he _ did,”Aaron said pointedly, rolling his eyes in Robert’s direction. He shrugged; Robert bristled. The over-familiarity annoyed him, and he tried to tell himself it was just because it was unprofessional. “S’alright, though. Good job, innit? Gettin’ in with the top dogs an’ all that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Pete grimaced, “I heard Diane Sugden’s been on the warpath a bit lately. Stayed well clear, me. No offence,” he added, in Robert’s direction. “I know she’s your step mum and all that.”

“It’s fine,” Robert said through gritted teeth, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t want them to know he had them curled into fists. “We should get going, Dingle. First watch starts this evening.”

He brushed past Aaron and Pete and headed straight for the front door, startling the cat, who brushed up against his legs before slinking off down past the side of the house and out of sight. He didn’t wait to see if either of them were following him before letting himself in and going straight into the kitchen, putting the kettle on to boil and dumping far too much coffee into a chipped blue mug. 

He didn’t want to think about why he’d had the reaction that he’d had to Aaron and Pete talking. It was obvious they were friends, old friends perhaps, and it wasn’t any of Robert’s business to know the hows and the whys and the whens. Aaron was a work colleague. Personal information didn’t come into it. 

And he most definitely wasn’t allowed to be jealous when he was more open and friendly with someone else instead of Robert.

“Ah, you making the brews? I’m gasping after that petrol station muck,” Aaron called out, striding into the kitchen and heading straight towards Robert, who jumped a little at the sudden close proximity. It was enough to jump-start him to remember exactly what it was he’d been doing before his mind had ran away from him.  _ Coffee _ , he remembered, and he flicked the switch on the kettle to get it boiling again.

Just as Aaron reached across his back to get to the cupboard, pressing his warm, solid body right up against Robert’s and nudging him forward against the counter with his hips, pinning him there as he rummaged for his own mug. 

The movement was so deliberate, it couldn’t possibly have been accidental; Aaron was so close to him he could smell his aftershave, a hair’s breadth from feeling the whisper of his breath on the back of his neck. The heat coming off him was intoxicating, and it was all Robert could do to not push back against him into the circle of his arms, or wrap an arm around his back to press him close enough to feel his rapidly stiffening crotch against the base of his spine - if that was even what was happening, if it was what Aaron wanted, or maybe his imagination was running away with him again…

Not satisfied, Aaron leaned even further forward to reach right into the back of the cupboard, pressing himself even more firmly against Robert’s back and  _ God _ , he had to bite his tongue as hard as he could bear to prevent a moan from slipping past his lips, his breath shaky in his chest. He barely registered the action of pouring the boiled water into his own mug or of stirring the coffee into a smooth, rich drink; afterwards, he’d wonder how he’d even managed to concentrate at all, he felt moments away from dropping the kettle and ending up with scalding hot water all over himself. 

“Sorry, mate,” Aaron said, finally, as he got whatever it was he was looking for and released his hot, musk-smelling hold on Robert, “couldn’t find the right cup.” He waved a red mug with the familiar yellow crest of Liverpool Football Club on it in the air. He smiled a smug, knowing smile,  _ some _ thing twinkling in his eyes that made Robert’s blood run hot. “Got it now, though.”

He was saved from anything further by Pete coming in to announce that their bags were all unloaded and waiting in their rooms, and if that was all, then he was going to make the drive back down South to meet with Mrs Sugden for a debrief. He’d be back tomorrow, he said, and in the meantime, Ross would be on call overnight to keep watch on the house if they needed anything.

Robert didn’t trust Ross as far as he could throw him, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “Great, thanks, Agent Barton. You’re dismissed.”

Pete turned and left, leaving Robert and Aaron alone in the too-small kitchen. Something hot and heady still crackled between them, like electricity, Aaron casually stirring sugar into his tea before adding a generous splash of milk as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. He kept his eyes down purposefully on his mug, but every so often Robert saw him sneak a glance his way, watching him. 

It was like being on stage, in front of crowds of hundreds, and Aaron was the spotlight fixed exactly on where he stood.

“Going to take a shower,” Aaron said, taking a big gulp of tea. “Don’t mind if I have the hot water first, do ya?”

“No,” Robert tried to clear his throat, cursing himself when his voice came out dry and scratchy from want. “ _ Ahem _ . No, no, it’s fine, go ahead.”

“Alright then,” Aaron said. He raised his eyebrows. “You know where I’ll be if ya want me.” 

He sauntered out of the room, waving his mug in the air like a salute, leaving his words emblazoned on the backs of Robert’s eyelids and imprinted in his mind like they’d been engraved there.

_ You know where I’ll be if ya want me. _

  
  


_ If ya want me. _

Quietly, Robert groaned, pressing the heel of his hand to his jeans where they were tightening across the bulge there. He’d already succumbed once to his little fantasy of him and Aaron; he really didn’t need to be doing it twice in less than twenty-four hours. Not when he actually cared what Aaron thought and felt. About the work, about his job, and about…him.

He cared what Aaron thought about  _ him _ . Not him the spy, not him the secret government agent, not him the suave, slick 007 in black tie attire who collected women’s underwear like he’d collected football cards as a boy…. _ him _ him. Robert. Not Agent Sugden, not 007, just Robert.

He wanted to show Aaron that he was more than his title and his job. That he wasn’t the tearaway gunslinger that Diane couldn’t handle, or the bed-hopping serial charmer with no qualms about wrecking lives along with mattresses. 

The fact that that bothered him so much....it scared him half to death.

***

Aaron had changed out of the faded purple hoodie into a smarter, newer-looking black one, zipped up over a thin grey t-shirt that clung to the muscles of his chest. He stood at the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal, with such a casual, domestic air about him that it made something funny tug at Robert’s stomach. 

“You should eat, y’know,” Aaron said, waving his spoon in Robert’s direction. “It’s gonna be a long night. We might not get a chance to stop later if somethin’ happens or things change, stuff like this can go rogue pretty quickly.”

“I know how to do my job, Dingle,” Robert grumbled. He pushed back from the kitchen table, getting to his feet. “I’m not unfamiliar with how surveillance missions work.” 

It was then that he realized that, yeah, all he’d had for most of the day was coffee and donuts - and as much as it rattled him to admit it, Aaron was right. He needed to eat something proper if they were going to be spending the night in an unmarked car tailing a wanted criminal. Breaks could be few and far between, and nothing could compromise a mission quite like low blood sugar. 

He looked at Aaron and admitted, begrudgingly, “I suppose a sandwich can’t hurt.”

He jerked an elbow in the direction of the fridge and cupboards in-between another mouthful of cereal. “Pete brought a load of food in. I imagine the ridiculous amount of smoked salmon in there is yours, is it?”

“No need to be jealous just because I have better taste than  _ you _ ,” Robert said, pulling out a loaf of bread, the butter, a knife. 

Aaron scoffed. “Hardly, mate. I wouldn’t touch that stuff with a barge pole.” He raised his bowl in the air. “I’ll stick to commoner’s muck, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Robert shrugged, setting about buttering the bread and fetching some ham and cheese from the fridge. Maybe it was a tall order to hope that Aaron could be tempted to a more highbrow way of life. 

But maybe he liked that Aaron was more down-to-earth than him. 

The two of them in the kitchen, eating alongside each other, making casual conversation….

It was nice. It  _ felt _ nice, in a way that it had never really been with Chrissie or Rebecca. The closest thing Robert had to this was his friendship with Priya, but even that was more about the fact that they were two incredibly attractive people who happened to work well together in bed. 

Robert was interrupted from his thoughts by Aaron slurping the leftover milk in his bowl noisily. He wrinkled his nose in faint disgust. 

“D’you have to do that?” he asked, pointing to his own plate. “I’m trying to eat.”

“Commoner’s muck, ain’t I?” Aaron replied with a shrug, then a wicked grin so blinding it made Robert’s heart skip a little. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to get used to it.” 

_ But what if I want to? _ He thought, then immediately squashed it down, hard, forcing it into the back of his mind. He couldn’t think like that. Not now. Not when they had important work to do that demanded  _ both _ of their full attention. 

“What?” Aaron asked suddenly. “You keep starin’ at me.”

“No, I don’t,” Robert said quickly, taking another bite of sandwich so he didn’t have to elaborate. “You’re in my eyeline, that’s all. You’re standing right in front of me, I can hardly help it, can I?”

“Don’t believe ya,” Aaron said, dumping his now empty bowl in the sink and sauntering - there was no other way to describe the way he moved - over to where Robert sat, resting his clenched fists on the kitchen table and leaning forward just enough that Robert could see the dark hairs on his chest underneath his t-shirt, where the neck of it gaped slightly. “In fact, I’m beginnin’ to think ya fancy me a little bit,  _ Agent _ Sugden.”

Robert’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth clacked together; his voice came out in a hiss when he said, “ _ You have no idea what you’re talking about. _ ”

“Don’t I?” Aaron rubbed his lips together, cocking his head like an inquisitive puppy. “It’s alright, y’know. Liking blokes. It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of, whatever it is you might have got in your ‘ead over the years about it. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, too.”

“Shut up,” Robert ground out, his heart starting to beat ferociously in his chest, enough that it hurt. He gripped the edge of the table hard enough to turn the tips of his fingers white. Aaron was looking at him with a half-cocky, half-concerned expression, his lips turned up at the edges in a faint smile. “Don’t try and pretend like you know me, because you don’t.”

“I’m  _ not _ tryin’ to mess with ya, I’m bein’ honest,” Aaron said. “Thought someone like you would be no stranger to a bit of flirting, isn’t it part of the job description?”

“Someone like me  _ how _ , exactly?” Robert spat back. “Tell me, since you  _ clearly _ know more about me than I do and you’ve known me for less than two days!”

“I just thought someone like you would be a bit more comfortable in their masculinity, is all,” Aaron shrugged. “Disappointin’ really, I thought you’d be different, but I s’pose it’s a bit much to expect from spendin’ my life surrounded by weirdly self-conscious straight blokes who panic if I catch them with their top off.”

“You think this is about you being  _ gay _ ?” Robert asked in disbelief, his voice getting louder and angrier with every word. “I couldn’t give a stuff. Really, I couldn’t care less. This is about you  _ projecting _ your biased opinions on me when you barely know me and you think that I’m - that I’m -”

He could barely get the words out, his throat closing up, dry as the desert around the truth that Aaron, unbeknownst to him, was far too close to.

“ _ I’m not like you! _ ” he burst out eventually, throwing his chair back with a clatter and slamming to his feet. “Alright? I am  _ nothing _ like you, so stop trying to pretend like we’ve got something in common when we haven’t.  _ We haven’t _ !”

“Mate, I’m just trying to be fr-” Aaron began, hands up in surrender, but Robert refused to let him finish.

“ _ We are not friends! _ ” Robert half-shouted, the force of it making Aaron jump and step back a little. Guilt niggled in a tiny part of his gut at Aaron’s sad eyes; the redness of his cheeks stopping him in his tracks for a tiny second. He saw the way he fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling it up and down over his wrist in quick, agitated movements. “We are not friends,” he repeated, more calmly now, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Don’t make this more complicated than it has to be.”

Aaron pulled his sleeves over his hands, wrapping his arms around himself; he suddenly looked small, defeated. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, fine. You win.”

He shrugged, moving past Robert without looking at him. He muttered lowly, “I’ll be in the car.”

Robert heard his feet stalking down the hall and into his room, heard the door slam shut and the  _ thump _ of a bag being moved around. He stood, shaking slightly, in the middle of the kitchen floor; he let out a deep, regretful sigh, closed his eyes, and put his head in his hands. 

  
  


***

The car ride to their first location of the night was tense and silent, Robert bringing them to a stop halfway down the street from a neon-lit bar where the target, a man whose name they had been told was Malcolm Foster, was liable to have a few drinks to loosen up before meeting his associates later on. It was just past seven and the sky was tinged with dark blue and black, just turning from twilight to nighttime, shadows cast across the tarmac by the darkening sky and the streetlamps on either side of the road. 

Aaron hadn’t so much as looked at him or said a word since their altercation, and it was beginning to bother Robert more than when he knew he was watching him.

He didn’t know why he’d lashed out so forcefully, why he’d said those things that he had. But Aaron made him that way; made him lose control, lose his head. Lose his temper. He was too curious, and sincere with it; for so long Robert had fought against letting anyone in, perfectly casting a glib, glossy mask over those parks of himself he didn’t want anyone to see. 

And then there was Aaron, with his sparkling blue eyes and kind, sympathetic words, his gruff demeanour and blunt nature, always hitting too close to home for Robert to be comfortable. To feel safe. 

But  _ comfortable  _ didn’t always mean  _ right _ . 

And he’d made a living by getting out of his comfort zone. His job depended on it. 

So why couldn’t he do that with another person? With  _ him? _

Shifting in his seat, he reached for the Thermos flask of coffee he’d prepared and took a sip; it was too strong, too bitter, because he hadn’t been concentrating when he’d put the coffee granules into it. He’d been too focused on Aaron, how he’d looked disappointed, almost mournful, when Robert had told him in no uncertain terms that they weren’t friends.

The expression on his face had been burned into his mind ever since, and the fact that Aaron was fixed straight ahead, through the windscreen, dutifully watching the bar ahead of them without once turning or flicking his gaze to his right, didn’t help matters either.

He’d been an arsehole. He knew that. He understood that. But one thing he’d never been good at was admitting when he was wrong, holding his hands up, and saying  _ I’m sorry _ .

He hadn’t got to where he was in life by being apologetic for who he was or what he did. That was also true. His was a violent, high-stakes life, and in a lot of ways, it was every man - or woman - for him or herself. Apologies weren’t necessary when you worked for Her Majesty’s Government and did what you had to do to serve your country and protect people, and keep the worst of the worst off the streets to stop them from hurting anyone else. 

It was relationships,  _ real _ relationships, not ones forged between expensive Egyptian silk-blend cotton sheets or a cover story needed to get close to a target, that were the bigger problem.

He’d thought he’d loved Chrissie, once upon a time. Maybe he had. But it hadn’t been  _ real _ love, not really, not the kind of love that made people delirious with it, all-encompassing, want-to-shout-it-out-from-the-rooftops kind of love. 

  
  


He’d never been in love. 

  
  


Well, he had.

  
  


_ Once _ .

Years ago, when he was barely old enough to be considered an adult, there had been someone he’d loved so much he thought he might burst open from it, spilling happiness and contentment and the sense of peace he felt all over the green pastures and rolling hills of his family’s farm. 

It had ended when she’d chosen his brother over him, and Robert’s heart had shattered, carried off on the winds like shards of glass from a broken window, each one as sharp and deadly as the blade of a butcher’s knife.

  
  


That was the last time he’d ever been in love. 

***

After an hour, they moved on to the next bar, tailing Foster in his sleek black convertible from two streets away and keeping out of the brightest glare from the streetlamps so as not to be noticed. So far, it had been pretty mundane, run-of-the-mill stuff like meeting with friends, having a drink or two, nothing out of the ordinary. They watched him through the windows, pint in hand, laughing with two other men whose faces were blurred by the dim light and shadows outside. 

Nothing to report. Nothing in particular to observe, either, except that this bar was definitely dingier than the last one, smaller and scruffier with at least one broken window they could see. 

So. It felt like they were heading in the right direction, at least.

_ Scum hangs out in scum _ was the oldest guarantee in the secret agent handbook. 

He and Aaron didn’t talk. They didn’t even so much as look at each other. They drank coffee from the Thermos, ate crisps and salted nuts and energy bars from the bag of supplies stuffed on the floor at Aaron’s feet, flicked through the case files yet again, and just watched, eyes straight ahead, peeled for anything out of the ordinary or anything significant that would get them a way in on their good-for-nothing target.

***

The digital clock on the car’s dashboard flickered 21:42pm as they pulled up in a dark, narrow alleyway behind a stretch of bars that all looked like they’d seen considerably better days. Rubbish bags overflowed onto the street, which made Robert grimace, and even Aaron seemed to sit up a little straighter, become a little more alert, in their new seedier surroundings.

But this area hadn’t been highlighted in the case notes as one of Foster’s frequent haunts; they’d followed him on a whim, Aaron’s eyes rounding to saucers when he’d noticed him deviating from the path they’d been given and he’d smacked Robert on the shoulder, pointing, until he’d noticed too and swore under his breath as he pulled the car around to make haste on his tail. 

It was the first time he’d initiated any kind of contact since their fight in the kitchen, which felt like eons ago now; but it had only been a few hours. 

That was the thing when you spent long stretches isolated while tailing someone. Time started to play tricks on you.

Robert rubbed at his tiring eyes, feeling himself getting heavy with sleepiness in his seat; he knew that, at some point, one of them was going to have to shoulder the duty of being the sole person on watch while the other slept, but he didn’t want to have to ask Aaron to take the first turn. And the idea of falling asleep around Aaron made him feel strangely vulnerable, in a way that both thrilled him and made nerves bubble up in the pit of his stomach. 

Aaron had his feet up on the dashboard, hands folded behind his head, looking perfectly relaxed, but Robert saw that his eyes were sharp and alert, his jaw set as he focused intently. That was the thing about Aaron; he was blase and cavalier to the point of infuriating, but Robert couldn’t deny the seriousness with which he took his job if you only took in the expression on his face and watched the way his eyes moved. And Robert did find himself watching, out of the corner of his eye, as every so often Aaron’s tongue would come out to lick across his lips, or he’d rub at his beard with a sigh or scratch a hand through his hair, and all those simple, infinitesimal things would make his breath catch in his throat and his palms tingle like he was fourteen again and fancied the pretty red-haired girl from his Biology class. 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him feel... _ giddy _ . Female or otherwise.

His coffee had gone cold, but Robert forced down the bitter dregs and flicked his gaze once again over the backs of the run-down buildings, keeping his eyes on the back doors of the bars and pubs. Another of those fail-safe secret agent handbook guarantees was that low-lives hung out exactly where you imagined they would, sneaking out of concealed entrances and hidden doorways to meet their clientele. It had happened so many times that Robert found it boring; these people were good, but not good enough, and especially not for Robert, who always stayed one step ahead.

Just once, he thought, he wanted someone to switch things up a little bit, make it exciting for him.

He wondered what Aaron would think about that.

Robert felt rather than heard Aaron shifting in his seat again, his feet dropping to the floor with a muted  _ thud, _ a sigh escaping his chest. He sounded bored, and Robert wasn’t about to disagree with that feeling. It had been hours and nothing had happened. Foster hadn’t shown his face once. 

“It might help if you talk about stuff, you know,” Aaron said suddenly, into the quiet stillness inside the car. “Keeping stuff bottled up...it doesn’t do anyone any good.”

“ _ Dingle _ ,” Robert huffed in exasperation, his eyes rolling, “are you  _ still _ going on about that?” 

“I know it’s hard,” Aaron continued, as if Robert hadn’t spoken, his voice soft but firm. “Trust me, I  _ know _ . But I also learned the hard way that keeping stuff to yourself never does anyone any good.”

“Didn’t realize you were a psychiatrist as well as a spy,” Robert retorted, folding his arms over his chest. There was a slight chill in the car from the late hour, and he shivered involuntarily, goosebumps rising on his arms. 

“M’not,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “Life experience, is all. I had to toughen up a lot, grow up before I was supposed to for a lot o’ reasons. Took me a long time to open up and admit that all that stuff should never have happened, that I was just a kid. It wasn’t my fault.”

_ I was just a kid. _

_ It wasn’t my fault _ .

Robert’s chest suddenly felt tight; he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He couldn’t look at Aaron, couldn’t look him in the eye, but still he kept talking, making things worse.

“Point is…it might help, ya know, talking. Doesn’t have to be everythin’ right away, but I’ve been told by my little sister that I’m a pretty good listener, y’know, occasionally.” He tried for a smile, which Robert couldn’t return; he wouldn’t return. 

Aaron had a little sister. Just like he did. 

“I can’t,” Robert said, shaking his head from side to side, as if the action would get rid of Aaron’s words in his head, the effect they were having. “I  _ can’t _ .”

“How do you know?” Aaron asked. “If you don’t give it a go at least once...people might surprise you.”

“They won’t,” Robert said. He knew that was the truth. They wouldn’t. Nobody had cared when he was a kid, and nobody would care now. And Aaron wouldn’t either, he was just pretending to, to be a good  _ colleague _ . A good  _ team player _ .

“You won’t be happy, y’know,” Aaron said sadly, looking down at his hands in his lap. “If you don’t be honest with people, you’re never gonna have the life you really want.”

“ _ Just don’t! _ ” Robert burst out, feeling angry and exasperated and exposed all at once. “You have no idea how much I can’t talk about, the things I have to keep buried inside.” His hands started to shake, anger heating his cheeks, but the words felt like they were forcing themselves up his throat and now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “So you want to know the truth? You really, really want to know the truth about me?” 

“Robert-” Aaron started, his eyes widening, but Robert cut him off, his voice rising to a shout.

“My mum, my birth mum, she died when I was a baby,” he spat out, the words coming thick and fast like an avalanche from his lips, “I have no memory of her, no idea what she looked like, nothing, not even a photograph. My dad hated me because I was nothing like my older brother, who he  _ adopted _ , and made no secret of the fact that he preferred to him to me in every single way. I was  _ wrong _ and Saint Andy did everything  _ right _ .” He let his lips curl into a bitter, wry smile, remembering those times; the blazing rows, his dad choosing Andy every time, even when he called Robert horrible names or stole his stuff to make him mad. Even when Katie broke his heart, it was still Robert’s own fault, still  _ poor Andy, loving someone he couldn’t have _ , and no sympathy at all for him when he cried himself to sleep at night because he missed her. “I was a punching bag for my family my whole life. If it wasn’t my dad, it was my brother, and then everyone in the village where I lived hated me too, because they  _ twisted _ everything and made it out like it was  _ all my fault! _ ”

But he wasn’t finished; despite the clawing in his chest that threatened to cut off his breath, despite the fear he saw flickering in Aaron’s eyes as if from a long distance, he felt everything well up to the surface like a dam breaking. “My dad treated me like I was nothing, and I felt like it, too. Made me hate myself so much that I started acting up just to live up to the stereotypes everyone already believed about me. I stole other lads’ girlfriends, I got into fights, I skived off school and got drunk by myself so I didn’t have to feel anything anymore. The more Andy was so  _ perfect _ , the precious golden son, the more I tried my hardest to be the exact opposite because my dad had already made me believe I was nothing to no-one.” His breath caught, a sudden sob wracking his chest. “Except my mum.  _ Sarah _ .” His eyes drifted closed, burning. He wasn’t in his own body anymore; everything felt hazy around the edges, far away. “She was the only one in my family who really loved me, and I loved her - so much. I didn’t care that she wasn’t my birth mother, my biological mother, because to me she was  _ mum _ and that was what mattered.” 

Tears, shining in his eyes. Memories crowded at the front of his mind, making everything fuzzy. He wasn’t in the car with Aaron in a back alley in Leeds anymore, he was a kid again swinging from his mum’s hand as she took him round the farm to see the animals, saving his favourites, the horses, for the very last. When he’d fallen from one of the fences and cut his knees up badly, she’d cleaned and dressed them and given him chocolate biscuits, even though they technically weren’t allowed to eat chocolate before dinner. When he rowed with Andy, he’d gone crying to her, saying it wasn’t fair that he always got the best of everything, how everybody forgot about him because he wasn’t the oldest like Andy or the baby and only girl like Vic. Always stuck in the middle. Always alone.

“She died!” Robert yelled then, sudden and loud in the quiet of the car, hot tears splashing down his cheeks. “She died and I was just a  _ kid _ , I watched her burn in a fire that my own brother started and - and -” Suddenly he couldn’t breathe; he was back there again, fourteen years old, collapsed in a shuddering heap on the grass while the barn that should have been empty burned high into the sky, the barn that his mum had been in when Andy had dropped the lit match and not noticed till it was too late. “I can still  _ feel _ it, physically. I hear her screaming and - and I can still  _ smell _ it, I can smell-”

_ Smoke. Ash. Charred wood. Burning hay. Burning fabric.  _

_ Burning skin, burning hair, the acidic smell of smoking chemicals mixed in with damp, rotting wood and the char of human flesh, the stench of death filling his nose and covering everything in a thick black fog until Robert was being hauled up from the ground by someone he didn’t remember and he knew his mum was gone. _

Robert scrabbled with pale, shaking hands for the door of the car, forced it open, almost fell straight onto the inky-black pavement as he stumbled towards the gutter and then vomited into it, retching hard enough to wrack his whole body, spasms of pain shooting through his stomach as he heaved emptily, unable to get the memory, the phantom stench of char and black smoke, out of his nose and throat. 

It seemed to last hours, standing there with his fists pressed to the brick wall in front of him to keep himself upright, nausea coming up in waves but only managing to spit bile as what little he’d eaten had already been expelled from his stomach. But it could only have been minutes; because then Aaron was there, murmuring his name in his ear and running his hands over his back, his shoulders, wrapping his warm, solid arms around Robert’s waist. 

“It’s alright,” he was saying, but his voice sounded distant to Robert’s ears. “I’ve got ya, Sugden, it’s alright. It’ll pass soon, trust me. It’ll pass.” Aaron’s hand spread over his stomach, pressing gently, tenderly, like he was a child with a bellyache. It made Robert’s eyes water. “You still feel sick?”

He couldn’t find the words he wanted to reply, so he shook his head.  _ No _ . 

“Makes sense,” Aaron said. “Ya scared me half to death, thought you were gonna pass out or summat. Ya just ran out, and then…”

“Don’t,” Robert finally said, licking his dry lips, tasting acid at the back of his throat. “Don’t pity me, please. You can let go of me, I’m not going to keel over.”

“Not a chance, Sugden,” Aaron said firmly. “I’m takin’ ya back to the car, and then I’m taking ya home - I mean, back to the safe house.”

The slip-up barely registered; Robert was still half-out of it, dazed, drained from it. He felt a creeping sense of shame start filling up his body, but he didn’t have the energy to acknowledge it. Aaron hooked an arm around Robert’s shoulders, leaning his weight against him. His limbs felt heavy, aching, and Aaron’s solid frame pressed so close felt good. He let himself be steered towards the car, and Aaron used one hand to deftly open the passenger side door and ease him into the seat, the smooth leather hitting the backs of Robert’s knees and his head lolling against the headrest. 

When Aaron slid into the driver’s seat, Robert found his voice again, scratchy and hoarse. 

“Dingle-” he licked his lips again, trying to get some moisture into his mouth, which was dry and tasted of bile. The bitter sensation made his stomach spasm again, painfully, and he doubled over with his hands pressed tight to his middle. “Dingle.  _ Aaron _ ,” he gasped, panic rising in his throat, his heart hammering. “Aaron, what’s happening to me?”

“You’re having a panic attack,” Aaron said calmly, matter-of-factly, his hand gentle on his bicep. “Another one.”

“No,” Robert struggled to breathe, “ _ no _ . This can’t be happening - this doesn’t happen to me! It  _ can’t _ . We have a job to do! I can’t just -  _ lose _ it like this!”

“‘Fraid you don’t get a choice, Sugden,” Aaron said, but although he was still calm, there was sympathy in his voice, and a tinge of sadness, too. “But let me help ya. I know how. If you listen to me, I can help ya feel better.”

“ _ I’m fine, _ ” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I don’t need your help.”

“You do, whether you want to admit it or not,” Aaron said, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding forwards, putting a hand on Robert’s heaving chest. “You need to sit up straight. Ya can’t get air into your lungs in this position, you’ll probably choke tryin’. C’mon,” he coaxed, pushing at his chest, “I know you’re feelin’ ill, but trust me. It’ll stop hurtin’ in a bit.  _ Please _ .”

There it was again. Those words.  _ Trust me _ .  _ Trust me. _

But could he? Could Robert really trust Aaron? 

“Look at me,” Aaron said, reaching to cup his chin and jaw into his hand, turning his head to face him. Robert looked into his eyes and saw earnest, burning blue. It was like staring into the depths of a deep, deep pool of shining water, but instead of feeling terror at what lay at the very bottom, he only felt....safe.

He’d let his guard down, in the worst possible way. He’d never been more vulnerable, not with anyone. But he’d let his deepest secrets - some of them, at least - come crashing forth in a moment of emotional exhaustion, and as much as he regretted it in some part of him, regretted losing control, it was the first time in a long time he actually felt like himself. 

And it was because of Aaron.

“ _ I can’t breathe _ ,” Robert whispered - wheezed - into the silence of the car. Fear made his voice crack, his eyes round with panic, and the interior of the car was too small. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, and he couldn’t  _ breathe _ .

“I know,” Aaron said sympathetically, “Look, Diane asked me to keep an eye on ya, yeah? To help ya with this job but also to look after you. To have your back. Make sure you didn’t get hurt. And right now, you’re hurtin’. So let me  _ help _ .”

Robert squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at anything - especially Aaron. He knew that if he did, he’d see something he didn’t want to there. Something that he  _ couldn’t _ see, couldn’t  _ let _ himself see. But he did allow him to gently push on his chest till he was sat back in his seat, and when Aaron let his palm rest there for a moment, the pressure warm and comforting, Robert tried not to let himself think about what it might mean.

Instead, he tried to block out everything except Aaron’s instructions and Aaron’s low, calming voice, smooth and detached, businesslike. Professional. 

Like he’d done this sort of thing before, he realized.

“Breathe in and breathe out, yeah? Just like that. That’s great. That’s really great, Robert, well done.”

He tried. He did. In. Out. In. Out.

_ He really missed his Mum _ .

“Woah, woah, slow down. Don’t rush it. That’s it. Take it slow.”

In. Out. In. Out.

Sometimes he just wished his life had been different, in any kind of way, better than all of this… _ baggage _ he was carrying around with him.

In. Out.

“See, that’s much better. I told you it would stop after a while. I wasn’t lyin’, was I?”

Robert’s lips turned up in the faintest hint of a smile, despite himself, though he still didn’t dare open his eyes. Not yet. 

In. Out.

“Here,” Aaron said softly, and Robert heard him shift, heard the rustle of fabric and the squeak of the leather seats - and then he was taking hold of Robert’s hand, fingers gripping firm and sure, and guiding it to his chest. He pressed it there, right over Robert’s heart, which had finally stopped its frantic beating. He could feel it, a low  _ thump thump _ instead of the racing that it had been doing just minutes before, and he let himself focus on it as an anchor as other things around him came back into his awareness.

The soft leather of the seat underneath him, the cold air coming in through the vents, the orange-red bursts of light from behind his closed eyelids that was coming from the streetlamps outside. A hum of traffic from the main road. More distantly, the shouts of a group of pub-goers and bar-hoppers. The bark of a dog. The rattling sound of someone putting their bins out. 

And Aaron, the feel of his soft breath against his cheek, the warmth radiating from his body and his calloused hand, on top of Robert’s, feeling the steady beat of his heart right along with him.

Robert opened his eyes, slowly, and Aaron’s face was the first thing he saw. His expression was soft, earnest, his gaze and breathing steady, and there was a hint of a comforting smile around the edges of his lips underneath the dark beard. 

“You alright?” Aaron asked with a slight nod, his fingers flexing around Robert’s infinitesimally. “Still with me?”

Robert felt sluggish, like he was waking up from a deep sleep. It was a while before he found his voice, and when he did, it left him in a breathy whisper. 

“Yes,” he said. “I - thank you, Aaron.” 

Aaron. Not Agent Dingle. The formality didn’t seem right, somehow, even though he knew it was perhaps a tad unprofessional.

“Don’t thank me,” Aaron protested. “Keep yourself  _ safe _ .” The smile that had played around the edges of his lips became more pronounced. “You can do that, can’t ya, Mr License to Kill?”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” Robert murmured. He felt exhausted; he must have been, because his words were slurring without him being able to stop them. He didn’t have the energy to argue at all. “M’tired.”

“Go to sleep,” Aaron ordered, fastening his seatbelt back across his chest. “I’ll drive us back.” 

“You will?” Robert asked. The hopefulness in his voice was new; he wasn’t used to this. Used to people caring about him.

Aaron’s eyebrow rose, just a little, but it wasn’t as judgemental as it might have been. He started the engine, hands sure and steady on the wheel as he backed them out of the alley. He didn’t look at Robert when he spoke again, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“I’m employed to keep you safe, Agent Sugden. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Except Robert got the distinct impression, in his sleep-fugged haze with exhaustion pulling at his bones, that it wasn’t.


	5. Chapter 5

When Robert woke up the following morning, his body used to the 5am wake-up call he’d set for himself for the past several years as a matter of routine, it was with the distinct feeling that something had changed between him and Aaron.

For a moment, he lay in his bed in the small sparsely furnished single bedroom, with its uniform blue sheets and a pillow that was just a little bit too hard for his liking, and tried to decipher the niggling feeling in his stomach that  _ wasn’t _ the gnawing hunger from having eaten so little and then being violently sick the night before. His eyes felt sore, crusted over with sleep and gritty in a way they hadn’t been for a long time. The dull throb of a headache was beginning behind his eyes, and he just felt... _ drained _ . 

He felt drained in a way he hadn’t been before, his limbs heavy ike he was trying to move through water. He felt pinned to the mattress by his own weight, a claustrophobic kind of weight that made it hard to breathe in the cool, just-this-side-of-cold air in the room. 

Robert had been more vulnerable last night than he’d ever been in his life, and instead of judging him or leaving him to struggle alone, Aaron had helped him as calmly and collectedly as if he hadn’t witnessed him, the famous 007, completely break down in front of him over memories from so long ago that they were white noise to him now, instead of a blaring Klaxon of emotions that they had been. 

He was a mixture of afraid, relieved, and thankful. Thankful that Aaron hadn’t left him alone to hyperventilate in the street, thankful that he’d half-carried, half-walked him to the car, thankful that he’d forced them to come back to the safehouse rather than continue the night’s surveillance. Aaron had been right, he realized; he’d been too ill to keep going last night, and that wouldn’t have helped anyone.

Aaron, he was discovering, was right about a lot of things.

Something  _ had _ changed between them last night, he was sure of it, and as he threw back the duvet and dragged himself upright and out of bed, he found himself thinking of where they went from here. Would Aaron be less sharp-edged, less rough with him now? Would he leave the stubborn attitude behind and start to work more  _ with _ Robert rather than against him? 

He found himself realizing that he wanted him to. Work with him rather than against him, that is. He  _ wanted _ to get on well with Aaron, wanted them to work together properly. As much as he enjoyed the biting back-and-forth between them, the tension you could cut with a knife and sent desire pooling in his belly, there was an underlying want of something else, too, something that was more companionable than heated arguments and Aaron deliberately pressing his wide, muscled chest against Robert’s back to get him worked up in a way that wasn’t just about sheer annoyance.

He wanted him, too. And it was more than that. He knew it. Why else had he been so gentle, so thoughtful the previous night? It wasn’t like Robert had made it easy for Aaron to like him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He hadn’t wanted to feel any sort of affection or warmth for the man, had been set on resenting him and doing the bare minimum to get by till the job was finished and he could be rid of him.

But then last night had happened, and he’d never felt so  _ weak _ and  _ useless  _ in his life. But Aaron was there, holding him up - quite literally - and reassuring him that everything would be okay, and Robert had believed him.

And he hadn’t imagined it when Aaron had said that the only thing that mattered was keeping Robert safe as part of his  _ job _ , but he’d looked and sounded like it wasn’t  _ just _ anything at all.

Scrubbing a hand over his tired face, he headed for the bathroom in the semi-darkness, but stopped for a moment in front of the door to the room where Aaron slept. In any other situation, if it had been Chrissie or Rebecca or any other woman, he might have knocked on the door, slipped into the room and under the covers alongside her, pressed his hips against her and kissed her neck, his hand finding its way down under her thin pyjamas between her legs as she woke up with a throaty moan…

But Aaron wasn’t any other woman, and he wasn’t just  _ anyone _ either. Something stopped him from looking inside to see if Aaron was awake, while another part of him wanted to see him fast asleep under the duvet, curly dark hair spread out on the pillow, all hints of a thunderous scowl gone from his face.

Instead, he hurried on his way to the bathroom, hoping that a hot shower and plenty of coffee would snap him to his senses and clear the fug of lust, affection, and desire for something in the guise of a genuine connection from his mind.

  
  


\---

  
  


Robert was onto his second mug of the strongest black coffee he could stomach, dressed in a fresh crisp shirt and trousers so sharply creased they were in danger of causing some actual damage, when Aaron barrelled through the kitchen door from the hallway, soaked in sweat and the rain that had started to fall in the past half an hour, panting hard and reaching to pull out a pair of earphones from his ears, letting them dangle around his neck.

“Went for a run early on,” he said, grabbing the towel Robert had just noticed was thrown over the back of one of the chairs and wiping at his face and neck. “Didn’t disturb ya, did I?”

It took Robert a moment to realize Aaron was expecting an answer; his mind, his eyes, were too fixed on Aaron with his face flushed red, damp hair curling haphazardly around his head as it dried in the heat of the kitchen, his long legs in shorts and the way his sweat-soaked athletic wear clung to every muscle and line of his shoulders and arms. He toed off his trainers - expensive, top-of-the-range ones, Robert noticed, proper running shoes - and left them where they fell, heading for the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water, throat working as he chugged on to re-hydrate himself.

“Sorry?” Robert blinked. Like an idiot, he’d been staring.  _ Get it together, Sugden _ .

“I didn’t wake ya, when I left this morning?” Aaron prompted. “Runnin’ is somethin’ I do to keep my focus, helps me get into the right headspace for the job. Started raining after a bit, though.” He rattled around in the cupboard for a mug, waved it in Robert’s direction. “Kettle just boiled?”

“What - oh, yeah,” Robert said, indicating the kettle, still puffing out whisps of steam. “Knock yourself out. I’m on my second already.” 

Aaron paused, resting one hand on the counter, the other on his hip. He squinted at Robert with his lips pursed slightly. “You alright, Agent Sugden? ‘Cause after last night…”

“Don’t,” Robert said, shaking his head; he turned away from Aaron, taking a sip of coffee just for something to do. The bitter taste made him grimace. “Thank you, for what you did, but I’d rather not dwell on it.”

Aaron looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded. “Fine. But if it happens again…”

“It won’t,” Robert said firmly. “I can get a handle on myself, I can control it. It was a blip, nothing more. I’m fine.” 

Aaron didn’t seem convinced. Robert wasn’t sure he was either, but he pushed that feeling down.  _ Not now _ . But he gave Robert an affectionate tap on the arm regardless, sliding past him in the direction of the hall, when Robert suddenly remembered something.

“Did you not want-?” he started to ask, waving in the general direction of the kettle, the mug left out on the counter. 

“Nah, ta,” Aaron shook his head, “Better go and get cleaned up before we start, eh?” He reached the doorway and then turned back, one hand resting on the wooden frame. “Oh, by the way, Ross is comin’ with us today. Tailin’ us. Back up, y’know.”

Robert had to bite his tongue, hard, to prevent a sarcastic retort from slipping out of his mouth; he didn’t want  _ Ross _ of all people acting his back-up, he didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. He was about to ask why Pete couldn’t do it instead, but Aaron was already down the hall, the bathroom door shutting and the lock sliding into place. The sound of running water reached his ears, and Robert distracted himself from thoughts of Aaron wet and naked in the shower by pulling out a chair and going over all the files, yet again.

  
  


\---

  
  


The rain had stopped, but puddles of water shone in the pale early morning light as Robert and Aaron pulled up across the street from a small hole-in-the-wall cafe, where they’d spotted Malcolm Foster going in for breakfast with a young redhead on his arm. Neither of them recognized her, not from their distance, and she kept her face turned inward towards Foster so all they could really see of her was her brown woollen coat and the way she preened when he unwound her scarf from her neck and draped it over the back of a chair. They’d chosen to sit in the window, which made Robert and Aaron’s job much easier, able to keep watch on them without too much risk. 

For a while, things were quiet; it started raining again, a faint drizzling rain that spattered the windscreen in a soft spray of drops, making everything look hazy and filmy, and commuters on their way to work rushed past on the pavements. The supermarket on the corner of the street opened and people bustled in and out; behind them, a store assistant in a Marks & Spencer’s clothes shop was changing the displays on the mannequins. 

To fill the silence, Robert turned on the radio to a low hum and was surprised to see, out of the corner of his eye, Aaron tapping his foot gently in time to the music. It was some indie band he didn’t recognize - didn’t listen to much music at all, really, not anymore - but he found his lips curling into a smile despite himself as he watched Aaron, every now and then his lips moving along with the lyrics. He turned the radio up a notch; Aaron looked at him questioningly, startled, but seemed pleased when he clocked that Robert didn’t mind and settled for drumming a rhythm on the windowsill with his fingers in between the muffled hammering of the rain. 

The windows fogged with their combined body heat, making it difficult to see; Robert reached for the screen cloth he kept in the dashboard to wipe away the beading condensation when he froze, eyes round as saucers, as Ross crossed his line of sight, heading across the street and right into the cafe they were supposed to be surveying.

Right into the cafe where Foster was, eating breakfast with his date.

Robert was going to  _ kill him _ .

“What the  _ hell _ does he think he’s playing at?” he hissed, already scrambling to undo his seatbelt, phone in hand intent on making a  _ very _ heated call to the bodyguard in question. 

He only got as far as unlocking the home screen when Aaron threw an arm across his chest, his voice low and commanding,  _ “Stop!” _

He turned. “Why should I? He’s going to blow our cover!” Robert expostulated. “He could ruin the entire operation if Foster sees him, or clocks who he is-”

“And what good will it do if  _ you _ go chargin’ in right after him and start yellin’ till you’re blue in the face?” Aaron asked, one eyebrow raised. “Listen, I’m just as confused and mugged off as you are, but I can’t let ya go runnin’ after him and compromise this even more. Let him do whatever he’s doin’ first,  _ then _ dole out the punishments, yeah?”

Aaron was, once again, right. It almost made Robert bristle as much as Ross’ obvious disregard for the  _ don’t blow your damn cover _ rule. 

He didn’t want Aaron to be right. But he also knew that he had to trust him.

“Fine,” Robert huffed, sinking back into his seat. “But if you think I’m not reporting him for this-”

A loud rap on the window on Aaron’s side of the car made them both turn; there was Ross, collar up against the rain, holding aloft a bulging brown to-go bag. Aaron wound down the window with a frown.

“Brekkie’s up, lads,” Ross announced. “Unless the man with the golden gun here has something to say about it, he looks a bit mad around the ears, like.”

Robert was fuming. He set his jaw, glaring at Ross, tamping down the urge to rise to the bait and tell Ross exactly what he thought of him for his little slip trick. 

“You’re on a warning, Agent Barton,” he muttered lowly. “Consider this to be it.”

“Alright, alright, here,” Ross rolled his eyes, shoving the bag towards Aaron, who caught it in both arms. The smell of coffee and fried bacon, fresh bread and pastries wafted through the car, and Robert’s mouth watered. He’d only had time for a couple of slices of toast that morning, and Aaron hadn’t eaten anything at all. 

Not that he would ever admit it to his face, but he was almost grateful that Ross had found a single generous cell in his body and thought to put it to good use.

“Get lost, Ross,” Aaron ordered. “Haven’t you got a job to do?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Yes,  _ boss _ .” The emphasis on the word was clearly meant to mock, and Robert bristled once more; he saw Aaron’s shoulders tense, his jaw clench. 

When he’d gone, Aaron sank down against his seat with a sigh, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “God, I hate that bloke.”

“You and me both,” Robert agreed emphatically. “No idea why Diane’s kept him on for so long, maybe she felt sorry for him after his dad died. At least Pete has talent, skill. He’s good at what he does.  _ Ross _ is just-”

But he never got to say just exactly what he thought Ross was, because he suddenly swore loudly and smacked the steering wheel with an open hand, making Aaron jump and look up from where he was examining the contents of the bag Ross had brought them.

Foster and his date were gone.

  
  


***

  
  


“You need to turn left up here,” Aaron said, pointing to the mouth of another narrow alleyway. “Then it’s another right when you get to the end.”

Robert followed his instructions wordlessly. They’d finally got a hit on Foster again, thanks to Priya’s brother and his mastery with tech (and tracking people), and were tailing him to an unfamiliar restaurant that Aaron however seemed to recognize. The rain had stopped and the sun was making a valiant effort to break through the dense grey cloud, but everywhere was still shining wet and gloomy; the car hit a puddle and a spray of muddy water went up, making Robert wince and Aaron scoff under his breath at him.

“How do you know so much about this area?” Robert asked suddenly, squinting through the windscreen at the street names and signs. “I’ve been a lot of places, but never here. Not this side of the city, anyway.”

It was true. He’d been to Spain, to Italy, to London and Liverpool and Belfast. But Aaron seemed to know the terrain in a way that Robert never really did; he knew the streets, the everyday humdrum goings-on, the  _ roots  _ of a place. Robert knew the food, the wine, the women, the rich and famous and where (and how) they made their money.. Aaron knew so much more than that. 

“Old case,” Aaron said off-hand, shrugging. He fidgeted with his sleeve. “Long time ago, but it was one of my first, and the longest job I ever did. Eighteen months, almost. I grew up around here too, so I kind of knew the place already before I went undercover..”

That gave Robert pause. He frowned, hands gripping the steering wheel a little tightly. “You were an undercover agent?”

“Why, don’t I look the part?” Aaron teased, cocking his head to the side and making a sarcastic attempt at batting his eyelashes. It made something warm and pleasant squirm in Robert’s stomach, seeing him be so...endearing. 

“I just didn’t know,” Robert said noncommittally. “About what you did before. Half your file is redacted, and you’re not exactly  _ verbose _ .”

“Part of the job, innit, keeping a low profile,” he replied. He gestured out the window. “Take a left up here, it should be right up ahead if I remember right.”

Robert did so, but he wasn’t done asking questions. “Why do you not talk about your previous jobs?”

“Why haven’t you mentioned any of  _ yours _ ?” Aaron pointed out. “Whatever ‘appened to confidentiality, anyway? Isn’t it some kind of sacrilege against official state secrets to blab about your work?”

“I don’t  _ blab _ ,” Robert protested, affronted. “I was trying to make conversation!”

Aaron made a  _ mmm-hmm _ noise. “Bet you say that to everyone.”

“No, actually,” Robert said softly, sincerely. “I don’t.”

Silence fell; but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Robert slowed to a crawl, looking out for the red-fronted restaurant that Aaron had described to him. Soon enough, it came into view, and he pulled the car into a small side street that still had enough of a view of it while remaining discreet. It had a deep blue canopy over the door and a few tables outside despite the heavy rain. There were a few other cars on the street, a couple of bikes tied to lampposts, the odd dog-walker going past. Otherwise, it was fairly quiet. 

“Y’know, you don’t exactly talk much either,” Aaron pointed out with a shrug. “Guess the whole strong and silent thing works for you, when you’re not, I dunno, beddin’ women or something-”

Robert let out a loud bark of laughter; he had to, because the words had gotten under his skin. “Is that all you think I do?”

“I don’t  _ know _ , do I? That’s the point. But I know the rumours, everyone does.” He looked uncomfortable now, even embarrassed. “You don’t exactly keep your datin’ habits low profile.”

“I enjoy spending time with beautiful people, having fun,” Robert said, thinking of his words with more care than he should have needed to. “No strings, just sex. Surely you’re not saying you have a moral issue with the way I live my life?”

“Don’t you ever get bored of being with a different person every night?” Aaron asked. “Did you ever think that, dunno, you might actually want to commit to summat?”

“You sound like Leyla Harding, Diane’s assistant,” Robert snorted. “She hates me, and doesn’t keep it a secret either.”

“Just sounds like it would be lonely,” Aaron shrugged, keeping his voice even and noncommittal. “I know that if I could, if I met the right bloke...I’d want that. A relationship, like.”

“It’s not that simple, Dingle,” Robert said. The words made his stomach feel heavy, like he’d swallowed a stone. He stared right ahead out of the windscreen, at the falling rain and the thick grey cloud, the customers coming in and out of the restaurant. “It’s not about being lonely. It’s about survival.”

Do your job right, or people you care about will get hurt.

The simple solution? Not to care.

What he wanted didn’t come into it, Robert thought. A life, a relationship, living with someone and sharing everything you had with them...he’d made that mistake before, years ago, and it had cost him everything. Now, as 007, he had to put the security of the country and of Her Majesty’s Government before anything else. He had to protect others, and in order to do that, he had to protect himself.

But Aaron...Aaron was making him want to care. To see things differently, to open his eyes and his mind to another way. He was doing that, and maybe he didn’t even notice that he was, but he was incrementally pushing his way through the cage around Robert’s heart with his words and his tenderness, the rough edges of his hard life a direct contrast to Robert’s gilded lap of luxury...but it hadn’t always been easy for him, either, he reminded himself. He’d just got exceptionally good at pretending it didn’t bother him.

Aaron stayed quiet, resting his head in the palm of his hand. His eyes scanned the street in trained, quick circles, moving restlessly while seeing everything in the vicinity with razor-sharp focus and ability. Every so often, he thought he saw his lips twitch as if he wanted to speak, but he didn’t. 

Instead, Robert sent off a message to Diane about their progress so far. _No sight of target or alleged associates yet. No sign of what target might be planning or with whom he’s plotting._ _Will remain on observation and target’s tail_.

A few beats later, a reply came through.  _ You better not let this job slip through your fingers, Robert. I don’t have to remind you of the risk you run in not getting this done. Make haste. _

Then, another message.

_ Good luck. _

Robert sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. It was too much to ask for anything more than that from Diane, no matter how much he might have wanted it, craved it, in his early years as a trainee agent and even before that, when his dad was still alive and she was just his stepmother instead of his boss.

He shook his head, snapping himself out of his maudlin thoughts. He’d dwelled far too often and too deeply on the past in recent days, and he knew that that too was down to Aaron, his presence, his influence on Robert in ways that the other man probably didn’t even notice.

“ _ No _ .”

A broken gasp from Aaron made him start; he watched as the colour drained from his face, his expression disbelieving, his brows knitting together with incredulity as he stared at something - someone - Robert couldn’t see. The outline of his body wavered; he was shaking. Anger, fear, something else, he couldn’t tell, and he was about to ask when Aaron spoke instead.

“I know him,” he said through gritted teeth, his breath coming harshly through his nose. “I know that bloke over there, just come out of the restaurant.”

Robert looked. Two men had come out of the restaurant, dressed in dark coats with their collars turned up against the rain. One was dark-haired, the other blond; the blond one was side-on to them, and Robert could see a slightly hooked nose and a wide mouth that was open in derisive laughter at something the other man had said.

“The blond one?” he asked, and Aaron nodded to clarify. 

“Name’s Collins,” Aaron hissed, his jaw clenched tight. “Stephen Collins. He’s a  _ sex _ trafficker.”

Robert’s heart stopped in his chest; his eyes went wide, blood running cold and adrenaline simultaneously rushing through his body, the anticipation of stumbling upon a jackpot that they so desperately needed in this case.

“You sure it’s him?” He looked to Aaron, whose eyes were hard as flint, icy blue as a frozen sea. 

“Yeah,” he said, his whole body wound tight, like the string on a bow. “Yeah, it’s him. I ain’t ever gonna forget that face.”

The men laughed, muffled by the still-falling rain and the distance between them and the two watching them in the car. The blond one, Collins, turned in the direction of the door, calling out to someone - just as it opened, and Foster stepped out, leaning out into the rain to say something to him, something they couldn’t hear.

“Bingo,” Robert said lowly. He couldn’t help but curl his lips up into a small smile. 

“What now?” Aaron asked. He kept his voice low and even, but Robert could detect the tension underneath, the way he was fighting to keep himself in check. Whoever this Stephen Collins was, his mere presence was affecting Aaron in some way, and that meant he must have had some kind of lasting impact on him in the past. 

“I say we follow him,” Robert said. “Both of them. If this man is who you think he is...”

“Oh, I  _ know _ he is,” Aaron interjected, his voice like ice. 

“If he’s who you say he is,” Robert repeated with a nod, “he’s our best chance. They’re in it together. We could get them both.”

He contemplated this for a moment. “Alright,” Aaron agreed. “But I want to drive.”

Robert raised an eyebrow, but Aaron stared him down. Somehow, he didn’t think the other man would appreciate him starting a fight with him over this of all things, so he kept his thoughts about anyone but him driving his car to himself and obligingly climbed out of the driver’s seat for Aaron to take his place.

While they switched and Aaron settled himself into the seat, Robert reached for his phone and made a call. He watched Aaron with his jaw set, hands clenched around the wheel with a determination that was at odds with his job description. This felt like something personal, and Robert had a few strong opinions about letting the personal affect the professional - but he knew that Aaron wouldn’t appreciate those kinds of comments. 

And he didn’t really want to get punched in the face or strangled again.

“Hello, Diane? It’s Agent Sugden. There’s been a new development…”

  
  


***

  
  


Robert forced his eyes to stay open, rubbing at them with one hand while the other reached for his lukewarm cup of coffee, as he perused yet again Stephen Collins’ rap sheet sent over by Diane via Leyla Harding. One, because he wanted to commit the information to memory, and two, because the contents of what he found in those documents made his stomach turn.

Aaron was right. Collins was a notorious sex trafficker and smuggler of helpless, vulnerable children, almost all of them girls and young women but also some boys, but he’d kept slipping the net and eventually MI5 had demoted him from being a priority. There were some photographs of his operation; dark grey lorries packed with scared, thin-faced children, barely out of childhood. Statements from his victims talking about how they’d been dragged to ‘parties’ full of older men who they would then be required to sleep with. Some of these poor girls had even been drugged to keep them docile and stop them from wanting to run away.

Robert didn’t have children. He didn’t know many people who did. But the thought of someone like Collins hurting them that way, when they were often too young to understand what was happening...it made his blood boil and bile rise at the back of his throat.

The moon streaked in from the open blinds at the kitchen window, giving everything an eerie, unsettling glow. When he blinked, he saw the face of one victim, a 12-year-old girl called Alice, abducted from her home and groomed by Collins and his men. In her photograph, she was wearing a pink t-shirt. She was still in her satin ballet shoes, having been taken straight from an after school dance lesson. There were other stories like hers. Robert had read them all in the last few hours, unable to look away from the details despite his hand gripping the pen he was using to make notes so hard that the plastic was in danger of shattering.

No wonder Aaron had reacted the way he did.

People like this, they made him feel sick. People like this were why he did his job, and why he’d gotten so good at it.

The digital clock on the oven read 11:22pm. In less than seven hours he’d be up again, going into the next 24 hours of surveillance on Foster. Except now they had Collins to contend with as well. 

With a sigh, Robert downed the remnants of his coffee - now gone cold - and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He needed a shower, but it was too late in the night and he didn’t want to disturb Aaron if he started clattering around the bathroom at midnight. 

He briefly thought about making himself another cup of coffee and powering through an all-nighter, it wasn’t like he was a stranger to them and with Collins’ file emblazoned onto his mind he doubted he’d sleep much anyway, when a thud and then a low groan made him freeze in his tracks, halfway to reaching for his mug.

He swivelled round, straining to listen beyond the soft ticking of the kitchen clock and the odd hum of a bird outside in the darkness. Another groan, louder and more distinct this time, with a sharper and more urgent edge to it than the first.

Then a cry that made his blood turn to ice in his veins;  _ “No. No! Don’t hurt me, let go of me!” _

_ Aaron. _

Robert lunged out of his seat, almost knocking the chair over in the process; it skidded across the kitchen floor with a deafening screech, but Robert was oblivious as he threw himself into the hall and the direction of Aaron’s bedroom. He vaguely wondered if he had time to grab the handgun locked in his bedside drawer, but another desperate cry full of fear and pain made that wondering a resounding  _ no _ as he burst through the bedroom door, eyes wild, searching for the threat.

Aaron was wound up in the sheets, thrashing against the restricting material with an unhealthy sheen of sweat shining on his skin; in the dim light Robert could see how pale he was, his forehead screwed up as though in intense pain, moans and whimpers piercing the stillness of the room in-between harsh breaths. 

“Dingle?” he called tentatively from the doorway. Nothing. A little louder. “Aaron?”

“ _ No. No! Get away from me! GET AWAY FROM ME!” _

In his sleep, Aaron thrashed so violently he was in danger of smacking his head on the headboard; Robert dived forward to grab hold of his shoulders but missed, and the resounding dull  _ thud _ made his stomach sick as Aaron’s eyes shot open. Bleary and wild like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, he looked frantically around, dazed, still half-asleep, and scrambled away from Robert’s outstretched arms like he’d been burned.

“Aaron?” Robert asked again, quietly. “Aaron, it’s okay, there’s no-one here. You’re safe.”

But his words may as well have fallen on deaf ears; Aaron was shaking from head to toe, arms wrapped around himself tightly, knees drawn up to his chin. He looked less like a grown man capable of breaking someone’s arm one-handed and more like a scared, vulnerable child, dark curls of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. In the dim light, he could see strange red lines on Aaron’s forearms, bare in his short-sleeved pyjamas; when he looked closer, the silence around them thick as gathering storm clouds, there were others on his thighs, just visible underneath the hem of his shorts.

His mouth was dry as a bone, his voice hoarse in a throat that felt as rough as sandpaper. “Aaron,” he whispered. “Your - your scars.”

He didn’t know what made him stare, why his heart seized in his chest like it was caught in a fist of iron; he didn’t know why the sight of his associate’s, his  _ colleague’s _ , red-marked skin from what was clearly self-injury should have made him stop in his tracks and feel…helpless. Scared. For  _ him _ . Worry and anxiety swirled in his stomach and Robert was gripped by the desire to climb over to him and pull the younger man into his arms, to make a promise that nothing would ever hurt him again as he rested his sweat-soaked head on his shoulder and he rocked him like a child. There was something so intense and warming about the feeling that it rushed through him like a tidal wave, in a way it never had with anyone else, male or female.

In the few seconds that he was overwhelmed by those feelings, he reached out towards Aaron again, to take him by the shoulder or even the hand and tell him he was okay - 

And then Aaron lunged for him, a pained cry tearing itself from his throat;  _ “Don’t touch me!” _

WHAM.

Aaron’s fist collided with Robert’s nose; he felt the bone and sinew crunch as he went sprawling backwards, knees hitting the carpet with a  _ crack _ and pain exploding across his face. He fell against the wardrobe, instinct allowing him to put his hands up to shield himself as he expected another blow; Aaron was standing over him, breathing harshly through his nose, hands curled into fists at his side and the knuckles of one hand smeared with Robert’s blood.

_ Blood _ . Gingerly, he touched his face, already rapidly swelling under a blooming bruise; his fingers came away wet and warm. He could taste the metal of it on his lips. But all he could focus on was Aaron, at how he’d reacted when he’d touched him, or even when he’d just  _ implied _ that he was going to. 

_ Don’t. Touch. Me. _

And then Aaron deflated like a balloon; his breathing slowed, his hands uncurled, and his expression changed from one of fear and fury to absolute horror and worry.

“Oh my God,” he stammered, sinking to his knees, crawling across the carpet to where Robert lay in a heap, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose with his sleeve. “Oh my God, Rob - Robert, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

His large, work-rough hands found Robert’s face in their frenzied fluttering, thumbs stroking his cheeks, eyes roaming his face like lightning, trying to assess the damage he’d done. One finger found the bridge of Robert’s nose, touched it lightly, tracing the path of the swelling under his eyes. His touch should have been a thunderbolt of pain right down the front of his skull; it definitely hurt like hell, like someone holding a white-hot poker to his face. But the tenderness, the genuine worry in Aaron’s eyes, now huge and blue in his chalk-white face and the knitted brow frowned in concern, just made Robert’s chest and stomach do that fluttery, swirly, flip-flopping thing again that he’d felt before.

“I didn’t mean ta,” Aaron croaked again, shaking his head. “I swear I didn’t - I just freaked out. I - I shoulda warned ya I get nightmares, don’t like to be touched when it happens, shoulda  _ told _ ya.”

“It’s okay,” Robert reassured him. And he realized, it was. “Aaron, it’s - it’s okay. We all have bad moments. You saw one of mine the other night.”

“But I hit ya,” Aaron said. “I - I punched ya in the face. And you’re my  _ boss _ . I punched  _ my boss _ in the face.”

“Aaron,” Robert said quietly. So quietly, it was barely above a whisper. His breath was loud and audible as he slowly, so slowly, reached up to cover one of Aaron’s hands with his own where it rested against his face, Aaron’s thumb cradling his jaw. His skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat, and Robert’s instinct was to twine his fingers with his, so that Aaron’s nails scratched bluntly against his skin. He did so. 

Like this, they were so close they could feel one another’s breath on their faces, Robert sitting awkwardly with one leg bent up to the ceiling, Aaron kneeling between his legs looking almost ethereal in the half-light coming from the gap in the curtains. They could barely see one another, but they could feel each other, could sense one another’s body heat and the space they took up, and seconds seemed to last hours. Robert was like a man possessed, entranced by Aaron Dingle, so close that if he wanted to, he could lean right over and kiss him…

But he didn’t. Instead, he slid his hand away from Aaron’s and circled his wrist, thumbing the soft, thin skin there, stroking in a gesture that felt so intimate, Robert thought his face might burst into flames from how red he was sure he was; his skin was on fire, and not just from the throbbing pain in his nose and across his cheekbones. A trail of dried blood made his lips and chin feel stiff and uncomfortable, but his fingers never moved from their gentle caress of Aaron’s wrist and down, further down his forearm, until Robert felt the rough edge of an old, deep scar there, a few inches long and half an inch wide, pink and angry against the rest of Aaron’s lightly tanned, smooth skin. 

He both heard and felt Aaron suck in a breath; his body quaked in a flinch. “It was years ago,” he said quickly, “Got sepsis, had to stay in hospital for a bit. Me mum nearly killed me.” A small smile spread across his lips, a joke in the face of something so serious and so immense that Robert’s heart skipped a painful beat. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Robert said, helplessly. The words stuck in his throat. “You have no idea what you do to me, Dingle.”

This close, he could see every single one of Aaron’s eyelashes, framing sleep-cloudy eyes that were almost black in the semi-darkness. But behind the fug of drowsiness lay something else, a kind of heat and interest and  _ want _ that told Robert that he hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t imagined any of it, the looks, the way he deliberately wound Robert up and drove him mad, his nonchalance and snarky remarks designed to purposefully stir up something in him that broke all kinds of different codes of conduct and crossed far too many lines.

_ But he’d done it before _ , Robert reminded himself. Except then he had been with women, and that was acceptable, normal, even expected of him.  _ You’re 007. You’re  _ supposed _ to be a serial charmer with a unique gift for entrancing women into your orbit - and your bed. _

_ “Don’t you want a  _ real _ relationship someday?” _ Priya had asked him, what seemed like eons ago now, but was in reality only a few days prior. 

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice…

They both surged forward at the same time, meeting each other in a hot, greedy kiss, a clash of lips and tongue and the rough scrape of Aaron’s beard against Robert’s cheeks and chin. Aaron still kept his grip on Robert’s face, thumbs anchoring his jaw, as his lips worked, sucking and nibbling and drinking him in with the fervour of a starving man seeing a loaf of bread for the first time in weeks. The kiss was open, wet and messy, desperate and heated, and when Aaron slipped his tongue in Robert’s mouth he couldn’t help but moan and rock backwards, pulling Aaron with him against the wardrobe and forcing him up onto his knees instead of sitting on his heels. 

One hand twisted in the loose curls at the nape of Aaron’s neck, the other slid under his t-shirt and up the muscled expanse of Aaron’s back, stroking the soft, smooth skin before pressing his palm wide against the ridges of his spine, firmly, enough to keep him in place as the kiss deepened. The heat rising between them was stifling in the otherwise cool room, Aaron’s silhouette blocking out most of the light that still threaded through the room forcing Robert to rely on his other senses of smell, touch, taste, and hearing - sweat and something vaguely eucalyptus, soft curls and smooth skin, the menthol tang of peppermint toothpaste on Aaron’s tongue and lips, his harsh, panting breaths in Robert’s ear as his hands roamed frantically over his hips and thighs, gripping hard enough to almost hurt....Aaron’s hands, blunt nails, palming at the taut skin of Robert’s stomach, so hot it was like a brand had been placed to the skin.

He forgot all about his bruised, swollen nose, the pain throbbing in his face, because all he could hear, all he could see, all he could touch, was Aaron.

“Robert,” Aaron panted into his mouth, tugging at his t-shirt, “Robert.  _ Robert _ .”

God, he loved the way Aaron said his name. 

“Yeah?” Robert croaked, his lips never leaving Aaron’s for too long. He grabbed for Aaron’s forearms, his shoulders, his narrow waist honed from years of combat training and the boxing he’d read in Aaron’s file that he’d pursued semi-professionally for years. Part of him was screaming for him not to do this, to back off, to stop this in its tracks before he went too far…

But the other part of him, the stronger part, the part that spoke with his heart and not his head…

It was telling him to hold onto Aaron, and to never let go.

“ _ Bed _ ,” Aaron gasped, a command, ringing in Robert’s ears and sending shockwaves of want and desire through his body. “Please. I know we shouldn’t but - I know ya feel it too. I want ya.  _ God _ , I want ya even though every part of my brain is screamin’ at me like this is wrong.”

“But,” Robert breathed, his lips inches from Aaron’s. He cradled Aaron’s face in his hands, feeling the burn of his cheeks. “It doesn’t feel wrong.”

_ It doesn’t feel like anything else I’ve ever felt before _ .

Aaron shook his head frantically, reaching for Robert’s t-shirt again, tugging at the material. “No. Not for one second.”

Robert let his eyes slip half-closed. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Then, his lips to Aaron’s earlobe, he said in a low, deep murmur, “On the bed.  _ Now _ .”

Aaron didn’t need telling twice; they were a mess of tangled limbs, half-undressed and almost giddy as they backed towards the bed, Aaron twisting his fingers in Robert’s shirt and pulling him backwards with him. Aaron’s knees hit the mattress and he fell back into a seated position, already reaching to pull his own pyjama shirt over his head, but Robert shook his head to stop him.

“Let me,” he said, his voice hoarse with arousal. He was very aware of the heat of his own body, of Aaron’s, and the growing discomfort from the material of his trousers stretching over his erection. In the dark, he couldn’t see if Aaron was in the same situation - but when he pulled his shirt off over his head and his hands met smooth, sweat-damp skin, Aaron gave a throaty moan that told him that yes, he was.

“Robert,” Aaron panted, chest heaving, “ _ Rob _ .”

“Yeah?” Robert asked, moving to bracket his knees on either side of Aaron’s hips, so that the other man was almost under him where they perched on the edge of the bed. He swooped to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw and Aaron shivered, arching his neck, one hand coming up to grip the back of Robert’s head and twist his fingers into his hair. 

“I want…” Aaron stuttered, then stopped, a faint blush colouring his cheeks above his beard. 

Robert murmured against Aaron’s throat, “Yes?”

“I dunno how to ask,” Aaron muttered shyly, his teeth coming to bite down slightly on his bottom lip, red and swollen from kissing. “I don’t…not in ages. Been with anyone.”

Robert thought back to just a few days ago, when he’d had Priya’s silken underwear in his back pocket and her sitting in his lap, just like he was sitting in Aaron’s now. A shot of embarrassment and shame went through him. 

“I -” he started, then swallowed. If there was ever a time to be honest, it was now, in the semi dark where they had relative privacy. But pushing through it was like talking around a mouthful of glass, and his heart hammered a painful beat against his chest when he spoke again. “Not for me, either,” he said eventually. “Not in years. Not really.”

Aaron bit his lip, then smiled a wry smile. “More of a walk of shame bloke?”

“Yeah,” Robert admitted. “I have to be honest and say I’m not that proud of it the way I used to be.” 

_ Not now that I’ve met you _ .

“I get it,” Aaron replied, and there was genuine sincerity in his voice. Then his eyes became dark and wide, lids slipping half-closed. The tip of a pink tongue came out to wet his bottom lip. “Maybe ya just hadn’t met the right person yet. Someone ya could be yourself with, yeah?”

There was a lightness to his voice, but Robert didn’t miss the meaning lying underneath his words. They sent a bolt of lust right through him and the pleasure went straight to his stiff cock, still covered by his trousers and regrettably so, and a slight shift of his hips found Aaron’s own erection, already leaking a small damp spot at the front of pyjama shorts. 

“Why don’t you show me?” Robert whispered, reaching up to cup Aaron’s face and pressing his lips to his in the softest, barely-there kiss. Aaron responded in kind, making a noise in the back of his throat that was a combination of a moan and a whimper, forcing Robert’s mouth open with his tongue and deepening the kiss once more. 

Reaching around to anchor his palms flat against the mattress, Robert pushed them both backwards till Aaron was flat on his back with Robert hovering above him, nosing along the column of his throat as Aaron’s hands made short work of the buttons on Robert’s shirt, then pulled it from his body and dropped it over the edge of the bed. He pressed his now bare chest against Aaron’s still-clothed body and he moaned, loud, underneath him, his hips jerking at the solid warmth on top of him, reaching up to grab Robert’s bicep with shaking fingers and hold him in place. 

Robert thrust down again and Aaron’s fingers tightened on his arm, hard, blunt nails digging in to the point of pain but Robert barely felt it. All he could feel was Aaron underneath him, sweaty curls standing up every which way, teeth biting into his plump bottom lip and the tiny staccato movements of his hips as he tried to reach Robert, but couldn’t quite manage it, the thrill of knowing he was driving Aaron wild making every nerve in his body alight. 

“You’re a prick, Sugden,” Aaron whimpered, bucking up and just missing the one spot on Robert’s body he wanted to meet, again. “Quit drivin’ me insane, it’s pretty clear what you want.” 

Aaron reached down to cup Robert through his trousers - but Robert was faster, taking both of Aaron’s wrists and pinning his arms above his head with his own large hands, completely covering Aaron’s own. The new position drew them inches from each other, fast, heady breaths filling the space with moist heat. Robert smirked. “Is that so?”

“Arse,” Aaron muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“Yes, yours is quite nice, I have noticed,” Robert quipped, his mouth a hair’s breadth from Aaron’s ear, voice low and deep. He brushed his lips against the tender skin of his earlobe for just a moment, then hovered over him again with a smile, the tip of his tongue coming out to touch the top of his teeth in an almost animalistic gesture. 

He felt Aaron shudder beneath him, and his smile grew, wicked and angelic all at once. He barely registered the way the movement made his nose throb, or the stiffness in his chin from bruising and the remains of dried blood; that was a problem for later. Now, he and Aaron were pressed together on top of Aaron’s bed, mouths red and swollen from kissing, having finally given in to the spark of  _ some _ thing that had been building between them ever since Aaron had walked into Robert’s office and been the moodiest, grumpiest assistant he’d ever met. 

“Your face,” Aaron said suddenly, as if he’d read part of Robert’s mind. “Shouldn’t ya put some ice on it or something?”

“Later,” Robert replied, dismissing it with a shake of the head. He pressed his hips forward, against Aaron’s, so that their erections brushed and pushed up against each other, creating a delicious friction and spreading the matching spots of pre-come soaking through the fabric. “Now, I want to do what I’ve wanted to do since you came into my office, Dingle.” He bowed his head to press his lips to Aaron’s throat. “Let me.”

Aaron’s breath was shaky and uneven as he nodded once, twice, and then slowly dropped his head back against the pillows as his mouth opened in a silent  _ O _ of pleasure. Robert started to thrust against him, over their clothes, sucking kisses into the sweaty skin of his throat as he did so. It was too much and not enough at once, but he didn’t want to rush this, not with Aaron. He wanted to  _ feel _ without the frantic desperation of a quick fumble or the release of a rough, slippery, all-physical interaction that was over as fast as it had begun. He rolled his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, muffling his moans against Aaron’s bare shoulder, letting go of Aaron’s hands from above his head to allow him free reign to touch Robert as he liked. He felt them - careful, warm, work-rough - trace each knob of his spine and each plane of muscle, gripping harder and harder each time Robert pulled back to grind against him again. 

The sensation of Aaron’s solid, warm body underneath him, the scent of his skin in his nose where it was buried in his neck, and how good it felt to have his stiff cock rutting against his own over and over again, the tiny little push-back movements of Aaron’s hips meeting his intensifying the pressure and the zing of pleasure...this is what he had been missing. This is what he’d lacked with anyone else who had gone before. Even with Chrissie, who he’d thought he’d loved once, he hadn’t felt like this.

Pure chemistry.

There was something about the two of them, and something about the two of them together, that felt  _ correct _ in a way he couldn’t describe. The antagonism and the wind-ups and the pulling of metaphorical pigtails in the playground, the challenge they posed to each other just by existing in the same space thrilled him. And he knew, from the sounds Aaron was making underneath him, the desperate way he pushed back to meet Robert thrust for thrust, that he felt the same thing Robert did.

And he  _ definitely _ knew it when a particularly hard thrust had Aaron grasping at Robert’s biceps, hips bucking into the small space between their bodies, a long, low moan being drawn from his throat and was so loud it was bordering on obscene.

“God, you make the most amazing noises, Aaron,” Robert murmured, dipping to kiss and nip gently at his collarbone, slick with sweat. “How do you do it when you’re usually so monosyllabic?”

“Rob, stop talking,” Aaron panted, thrusting upwards again. “Do ya always talk so much when you’re screwin’ someone?”

Robert laughed, low and rich, and pressed his face into the crook of Aaron’s neck once more. In response, he stayed quiet, but picked up the pace of his hips to an almost brutal degree; the sudden change in speed and depth of his thrusts made Aaron cry out “ _ Oh! _ ” in an almost comical way. He let his legs fall open on either side of Robert’s thighs to let him in deeper, inviting him to fit like a puzzle piece against his body. The only sounds in the room were their harsh, panting breaths, grunts and moans, and the squeak of the mattress beneath them as they ground their bodies together, coupled with the slick  _ smack _ every now and then of Robert’s clothed chest against Aaron’s naked one. 

“God,” Aaron groaned, gripping Robert’s arms harder, legs coming up to interlock around his waist and force him to thrust harder and deeper, “ _ God _ , Robert. Christ.  _ Shit _ . I-” he swallowed, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath. “M’ gonna come.”

“Do it,” Robert commanded, his voice so low it was almost a growl against Aaron’s shoulder. “Want to feel you.”

That was all the incentive he needed; he felt Aaron judder beneath him, hips canting out of rhythm with Robert’s as his mouth dropped open in a long, deep moan and then he was coming, cock twitching against Robert’s as he spilled into his underwear. Robert kept grinding his hips against him through his orgasm, the sensation of damp warmth from Aaron’s come pushing Robert himself further towards the edge, knowing that it was all because of  _ him _ .

He thrust again once, twice, three more times and then he was biting down on Aaron’s shoulder to muffle his cry as he came, soaking the fabric of both his underwear and trousers. Beneath him, Aaron whimpered at the oversensitivity of his own cock as Robert’s pulsed with his orgasm between them, trapped between their stomachs. He rubbed his sweaty forehead against Aaron’s neck, panting, before rolling off of him with a sated, giddy, genuinely happy laugh that startled him in how sincere it sounded to his own ears. 

He liked it. He liked Aaron. And now, laying on top of the duvet with Aaron half-draped across him, sticky and sweaty from sex, he liked the way he made him feel, too.

“I think my brain has melted out of me ears,” Aaron huffed, throwing an arm over his eyes. His chest heaved with each breath he took. “God. I haven’t - not had that in a long time.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re impressed?” Robert asked, smirking. 

“Shut it,” Aaron said, making an attempt to slap at Robert, but missed, because he was too worn out and still trembling slightly from his orgasm. He curled inwards towards Robert, brushing away a stray, sweat-soaked curl from his forehead. “We can stay here, yeah?”

Momentarily, Robert froze. The whole pillow talk, post-sex cuddling, actually  _ sleeping _ thing wasn’t something he was ever any good at. In fact, he avoided it as much as humanly possible. It led to feeling things that you shouldn’t, things he couldn’t afford to feel. It made things too complicated.

“Got nowhere else to be,” Robert replied nonchalantly. “I’d rather stay here than think about work, anyway.”

“Work later,” Aaron mumbled, already falling back to sleep, using Robert’s chest as a pillow. “M’ tired now. You shagged me out.”

Robert chuckled, and moved to better curl his arm around Aaron’s waist, holding the other man close. It should have felt like too much, but it didn’t. “Sleep, Dingle. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”


	6. Chapter 6

At some point, Robert must have fallen asleep himself, because the next thing he knew the small clock on Aaron’s bedside table read 4:22am and his whole body ached like he’d been trampled on. Lying in an uncomfortable position on a lumpy duvet - lumpy because of the night’s activities - still in his clothes, that were now stiff and stained with sweat and come, wasn’t particularly pleasant to wake up to. He was getting older and couldn’t really afford to be sleeping in a crooked way, and he knew his back was going to give him hell for it later.

But Aaron was there, and he was with him, and that made everything that little bit more bearable.

Except, when he reached out one arm to search for him, he wasn’t there. The side of the bed he’d fallen asleep on was tepid from the warmth of his body and at some point he’d moved from Robert’s chest to lie on his own pillow, which was cast aside thoughtlessly somewhere near Robert’s feet. 

“Dingle?” he called out, bleary-eyed, grimacing when he felt his trousers stuck to his skin with his own come. “Aaron?”

Had he had a change of heart? Had he realized that what they were doing was crossing too many boundaries and decided against it? 

Before his heart could sink like a stone in his chest, however, Aaron re-appeared. He’d changed his clothes for a soft, worn olive green jumper and a pair of black joggers; under one arm, he held a bundle of what Robert recognized as his own clothes. The idea that Aaron had searched his drawers gave him a tiny thrill; the intimacy of it took him by surprise, but he found that he didn’t mind all that much. And anyone would tell you how much of a control freak Robert was at any other time. In the other hand, Aaron had a damp cloth and what looked like a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a hand towel.

“Here,” he said, handing him the clothes, “thought you might want to, er, change,” he blushed, cheeks going pink like a schoolgirl’s. “You can use this to clean up.” He passed him the damp cloth, a navy face towel from the bathroom, still blushing. Robert couldn’t look away as he took it gratefully along with the clothes and started to strip immediately. 

He craned his neck back towards Aaron, who was trying to focus on the carpet. “It’s okay, you know, you can look. I didn’t think you’d be shy  _ now _ after what we just did.”

Aaron shrugged, a tiny movement of his shoulders. “Respectful, innit? You’re technically still my boss. Got a nice arse, though,” he grinned, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth with appreciation. 

Robert used the cloth to clean himself, then dressed and climbed under the duvet, signalling for Aaron to join him. When he looked unsure, he said, “We’ve got a couple of hours till the next surveillance shift, c’mon.”

He saw Aaron’s gaze flicker to the clock on the bedside table. 4:52am. They still had plenty of time. 

Aaron obliged, bringing with him the makeshift ice pack. “Sorry,” he said, again, wincing when Robert pressed it to his swollen, bruised face and hissed at the pain; it really did hurt now, more than he realized or had noticed earlier. 

“No prizes for guessing how you got recruited for the job,” Robert remarked, adjusting the pack gingerly. His nose throbbed. “You’ve got a hell of a right hook.”

“I used to be a boxer,” Aaron said. “Only semi-professionally, mind,” he added quickly, when he saw Robert’s look of incredulity. “My uncle taught me, back when I was goin’ through some stuff, and I guess I was pretty good at it.”

“More than pretty good,” Robert said. “You’re lucky my nose didn’t get broken.” 

“Oh, shut up, you big baby,” Aaron scoffed, nudging Robert playfully in the ribs under the duvet. The gentleness of it made his heart skip giddily in his chest. “Don’t ya get shot at for a livin’ or somethin’?”

“It  _ hurt _ ,” Robert pouted, which made Aaron laugh, a genuine sound from deep within his belly that was music to Robert’s ears. 

“Shoulda known you were vain as well as arrogant,” Aaron replied, but there was teasing in his voice, not malice. His blue eyes were alight with mirth, and he smiled in a way that reminded Robert of spring sunshine making dew drops on the grass glisten. Everything about Aaron made him want to think and speak in poetry. Chrissie had never done that, nor Rebecca or Priya, or anyone for that matter. It was something unique to Aaron alone. 

He wanted to open his mouth to tell him, but Aaron surprised him by kissing him again, softly and slowly. His lips were warm and tasted sweet, a contrast with the rough stubble of his cheeks and chin. When he pulled away, he said quietly, his voice husky with sleep and satiety from sex, “Sorry about your face.”

“It’ll heal,” Robert whispered back. 

He settled against the pillows, and the hand not holding the ice pack to his face itched to twine itself with Aaron’s; his fingers twitched, wanting to reach out, but something in the way Aaron was holding himself stopped him. He sat cross-legged, hunched over, hands fidgeting with the edge of the duvet over and over again. They fluttered like butterflies, bunching and then smoothing the fabric in a practiced rhythm. His leg occasionally bumped against Robert’s, but he seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid looking at him.

“Hey,” Robert said quietly, nudging Aaron’s leg with his outstretched foot. “You with me over there?”

“What?” Aaron frowned deeply. “Oh, yeah, it’s jus’….” He faltered, looking back to where the pale morning light was dawning through the curtains. “I need somethin’ from ya, but I dunno how to ask.”

He looked nervous, Robert noticed. Vulnerable. Like a child.

“What do you need?” he asked. “Is it something I can give you? Get you?”

Aaron bit his lip, fidgeting with the duvet cover. The hands that had gripped him so tightly just hours earlier in the throes of pleasure were now restless, agitated. “Shouldn’t.”

“Aaron…” Robert pulled the ice pack from his face, sighing. “You helped me the other night when I needed it. I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t been there to calm me down. And that’s not something I can admit easily, when I need help, that is. I’m used to working on my own, doing what I want, how I want, and I’m used to manipulating people to go along with what I say. But never with you,” he added quickly, seeing the way Aaron’s eyes went round and nervous, anger already reddening his cheeks. “I’ve not lied to you, I swear.” 

_ Not yet _ .

_ Not about the things that really matter. _

Hiding was what Robert was good at. There were parts of himself he wanted to keep hidden, at least for the moment, because they were too big, too scary, to confront. When the time was right, he would reveal them, to the right person. It was just a bit too much to lift the lid of that particular box, right now. For now, it was staying closed.

But it didn’t mean that how he felt about wanting Aaron wasn’t genuine. 

It was just...a bit more complicated, that was all.

At least, that was what he needed to believe, if he didn’t want Aaron to run a mile or quit or denounce him to Diane for being a user and a liar - and a deviant.

_ No son of mine is going to be a devious little - little - _

But that was all he’d heard, as his father hadn’t managed to get the rest of the words out before he’d started raining down the blows, first with his fists and then with his belt.

“Would ya - would ya hold me? For a bit?” Aaron asked timidly. “I - sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes physical contact helps. With the panic attacks,” he added, by way of explanation. “I feel fine now, but I need-”

“Somethin’ to help you feel like you won’t float away?” Robert finished, some of the proper elocution slipping from his voice, dropping into the broader accent of his upbringing rather than the clipped tones he’d adopted as an agent. It felt comfortable, familiar, warm. Less like wearing a mask and more like being himself.

Aaron nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

He didn’t. Robert could relate to that feeling. That need to feel like you were solid flesh and blood and bone, and not just a mirage on the air that would disappear with the next gust of wind. 

Robert moved down so that he was lying on his side, having discarded the ice pack. His face didn’t hurt so much now, hopefully the swelling would subside. He held out his free arm. “Come here.”

Aaron did so, moving so that he was able to tuck himself under Robert’s arm, against his body, curled into the shape of him instinctively. The difference in their heights, though slight, made it easy for them to fit together, like two puzzle pieces side by side. Having Aaron’s warmth this close to him again felt like a soothing balm over an itch or a sting. He’d never really done this, just lying together and being in each other’s presence, had never wanted to or needed to, and it was as alien as much as it was reassuring. He hesitated before slipping his arm around Aaron’s waist, holding him there, his palm resting on Aaron’s stomach where he knew the silvery-pink scars criss-crossed his skin. He wanted to ask how he got them, and why, but he knew it was a question for another time. 

“You’re not so bad, y’know, you,” Aaron said after a while, his voice quiet in the early morning calm. “I thought I’d end up hatin’ ya.”

“And now?” Robert asked, his lips inches from the soft, sensitive skin of Aaron’s neck and ears. He had the urge to press a kiss there, to taste the salt of sweat and something that would undoubtedly be unique to Aaron. But he didn’t.

“I don’t,” Aaron said, pillowing his cheek on his hands. The slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed was soothing. “Hate ya,” he clarified, clearing his throat a little out of nervousness.

“I don’t know how I feel, in all honesty,” Robert said, “and I’m not great at talking about it. But I suppose I don’t hate you either.”

“Good,” Aaron sighed on a yawn, already falling back to sleep. “Wake us up before the alarm goes off, will ya? I don’t really fancy Pete or Ross catchin’ us like this, if you get my drift.”

That should have made something like doubt or worry niggle in Robert’s stomach. It should have raised alarm bells about Aaron’s unwillingness to be openly with Robert which, he found himself thinking, was a lot like the pot calling the kettle black - that he should be afraid that Aaron would back out when  _ he _ was the one who had been trying to convince himself that it wasn’t as serious as it appeared. 

That he could compartmentalize who he was into Robert Sugden, 007, and just Robert, who was attracted to a man and liked him and liked to be with him. 

The Robert who was going on more than fifteen years with his struggle to be himself, and wanted desperately to find someone who could really  _ see _ him, the real him, beyond the fast cars and the luxury hotels and his needle-sharp ability with a gun. The one who would like him for him.

But it didn’t. Because for the first time in a long time, despite the blood and bruises, despite the scars on Aaron’s body that should have told him to stay well away, and despite the ominous black-and-white mugshot of Stephen Collins that floated up behind his closed eyelids as he tried to catch those last couple of hours of sleep, he felt alright. He felt safe. 

He felt like someone actually cared.

  
  


***

  
  


The loud banging on the front door reverberated through the small house and Robert’s brain like a jackhammer. 

“Agent Sugden, open up! This is of the utmost importance and I should not be resigned to expect this kind of behaviour from you!”

A voice he knew all too well reached his ears, piercing and shrill with impatience, and he shot bolt upright with a chill in his veins that could only mean one thing; Diane was here, and she was  _ not _ happy.

Another series of loud bangs. “Open up this instant, Robert, or I shall have to ask Agent Barton to break down this door!”

_ Oh God _ . 

Aaron, still fast asleep with his mouth open, snoring softly, was curled around his waist like a koala bear; one arm was slung across his lap, heavy and warm, and his soft breath whispered against the exposed skin of Robert’s hip where his shirt had ridden up. There was no way to extract him without waking him, but if he didn’t move  _ now _ , he knew the tongue-lashing he was going to get from his stepmother would be a vicious one.

And he knew. He knew he’d been on his last warning. If they were caught together…

_ No _ . He couldn’t do that to Aaron.

So he swung himself out of bed as smoothly as he could without disturbing him, watched as Aaron fell back into a foetal position on the bed and carried on sleeping, and sighed in relief. This didn’t have to involve him, not if he could help it. 

After several hours, his face felt like it was on fire; he didn’t have to touch it to feel how swollen it was, and as he stumbled to the bathroom still not entirely awake, he knew he’d have to come up with some sort of story to tell Diane. The makeshift ice pack Aaron had given him had helped, but the sight of himself in the mirror above the sink made his stomach drop; his cheek, nose and above his left eye were black, dried blood had crusted around his nostrils and there was a gash on what he only realized now was a split lip. He hadn’t even felt it last night, too busy wrapped up in  _ Aaron, Aaron, Aaron _ to notice.

But now, it hurt like hell, and he found a half-open tub of salve in the back of the medicine cabinet to dab onto the worst of the bruising, clenching his teeth as he did so against the pain and tenderness underneath the skin. At least he hadn’t ended up with an eye that was swollen shut when he could easily have; he’d had that experience before, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

He knew that trying to clean his teeth was out of the question, so instead he quickly rinsed his mouth out with a capful of mouthwash and reached for the first thing he could find to pull on over his pyjamas - a soft and warm purple hoodie, fuzzy with wear and age. Aaron’s. It still had the scent of his cologne on the fabric, and he found himself bowing his head to inhale as much of it as his beat-up, bloodied nose would allow him; smelling spearmint and something fruity that might have been some kind of hair product caught in the threads along with the musky aftershave and the familiar tang of engine oil, like something right out of his childhood on the farm where his family had lived. It made him smile a tiny smile, that little piece of nostalgia from a time he’d otherwise try not to remember. 

There was so much of Aaron in this one piece of clothing, he realized as he wrapped it around himself for warmth, the sleeves a little too short and the edges frayed where Aaron constantly pulled at them. He didn’t own anything remotely like that. A talisman to hold onto. 

Well. There was one thing. But he hadn’t looked at it in years. He wasn’t even sure if he remembered where it was.

Wrapped in Aaron’s hoodie, some of the pain fading from his face thanks to the salve, he went to open the door - and receive his fate.

On the doorstep stood Diane, in a powder-blue trouser suit and matching jewelled earrings, her red lipsticked mouth set into a disapproving line. Behind her was Leyla Harding, a shaggy black fur coat open over a navy pinstriped dress that was far too short. She held a bulging handbag that matched Diane’s lipstick and looked big enough to hold at least three files. Her heavily pencilled eyebrows were arched in obvious derision. Robert ignored her.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Diane burst out, pushing past Robert and going into the house, heels clicking on the floor. “I’ve been knocking and knocking. Just when I thought you might actually have learned some manners!” She turned to face him, squinted. Her forehead wrinkled deeply. “And what on  _ earth _ has happened to your face?”

“Nice to see you too, mum,” Robert muttered sarcastically under his breath. He followed Diane into the kitchen, where she surveyed the surroundings with a critical eye. 

“Is Agent Dingle with you?” she asked. “I must relay this information to both of you.”

Robert opened his mouth to start speaking, make up some story, when the man himself came through the doorway, dragging a towel through freshly-showered hair and smelling like green apples. 

“Sorry,” he addressed Diane, throwing the damp towel over the back of one of the chairs. “My alarm must not have gone off this mornin’. Had to drag meself out of bed.”

Diane pursed her lips. “I see. Well, you’re both here now, so you might as well sit.”

Robert, fearing another lecture if he didn’t obey, did as he was told; Aaron followed suit, crossing his arms on the table, so the muscles in his arms bulged. Robert had to wet his mouth with his tongue to stop his lips from gumming together, they were suddenly bone dry; when Aaron caught his eye, he winked cheekily, eyes hooded over and blown dark with lust.

And then he smirked and the look was gone as fast as it had come, as he turned back to Diane with his full attention, so Robert could only see his profile and the back of his head. 

_ You bastard _ , he thought. 

Diane cleared her throat, then leaned forward, resting her palms on the table. “I’m pulling the Foster job. Temporarily.” 

“ _ What? _ ” Robert asked, dumbfounded. Surely she couldn’t be serious?

“Why?” asked Aaron at the same time, his forehead creased in confusion. He frowned deeply, looking incredulous. “What’s the big fuss?”

“Now we now Collins is involved, there simply isn’t enough intel to allow you to continue without putting you in danger,” Diane said, matter-of-factly. “It’s too big a job for two agents to handle on their own, we need more information. So for now, you’re both released from this assignment while my team collect more details and more in-depth studies on who we’re looking at here.” Seeing Robert’s shocked face, she added, “It’s for your own protection, Robert. Agent Dingle’s too. I won’t risk it, you’re too valuable an asset.”

“So that’s it, we’re both basically getting sacked, just like that?” Aaron retorted. “Even though we’re the ones who found out Collins was involved in the first place?” He shook his head. “No. S’not on, that.” 

“Watch your tone, Agent Dingle!” Diane snapped. “This is about more than just you. Though I can’t say I’m not somewhat pleased about the fact that you’ve clearly found a way to work together, which is more than I expected given your...unsavoury treatment of your associates in the past.”

Robert bristled, stiffening at the insult; Aaron next to him went very still, his face unreadable, and Robert panicked. He had no idea what he was thinking about Diane’s revelation. He’d tried so hard to show Aaron that he wasn’t the image of debauchery people assumed, or at least he thought he had, and the last thing he wanted was Diane sticking her nose in and ruining that for him. 

For them.

“He’s not like what you think,” Aaron said eventually, his voice quiet and serious. “You can’t just drop him when it conveniences you.”

Robert was stunned. His eyes flew to Aaron, whose jaw was set in a defiant line.  _ Aaron was defending him. _

“Mrs Sug- _ Diane _ ,” Robert pleaded, trying to reason with her as his former stepmother rather than as a boss. “Please. You know I’m good enough for this job. Let me keep going, and I’ll prove to you that me and Aaron can do this.”

Behind her, Leyla snorted. “Always lickin’ other people’s boots, ain’t ya? How pathetic.”

“Miss Harding!” Diane interjected loudly. “I didn’t ask for your opinion!”

“Sorry, Madame Secretary, but he needs to be told. This one,” she jerked her head towards Aaron, “needs to know who he’s getting involved with. Defying direct orders is just the tip of the iceberg with him.”

“Shut up,” Robert ground out, fists clenching where they rested on the table. Leyla didn’t know him. She didn’t know him from Adam. She only thought she did, from the rumours and the whispers and yes, the reputation that Robert himself had helped to create, but what right did she have to judge him? He was an adult. He’d worked hard. His life was his own to do with it what he wanted. For years, he’d cow-towed to what other people wanted, or what he thought they expected of him. But he wasn’t a kid anymore. 

“That’s enough,” Diane said curtly. “Miss Harding, please refrain from speaking out of turn with my agents, however your personal feelings might manifest themselves. Agent Sugden, please keep your temper in check.”

“I wouldn’t have to if she didn’t keep treating me like I was pond scum and judging me every time I so much as took a breath!” Robert protested, anger flashing through him now like strokes of lightning. He didn’t seem to be able to stop. His nostrils flared, painful with the dried blood that still clung there. “I’m sick of it, Diane, I really am. Why should I have to put up with such blatant disrespect from someone who’s inferior to me in rank and job description?”

“Robert!” Diane burst out, her face reddening to match her lipstick. “Be quiet  _ immediately _ !”

“Why should I?” Robert asked. “I’m right, aren’t I? You just don’t like me saying it, because I was never allowed a voice. Not with you, not with anyone in my family. Right, Diane?”

Diane’s expression fell from one of anger to complete non-emotion; her lips were drawn in a tight line again. When she spoke, her voice was cool and brittle. “I really have had enough of your childish jealousy, Robert. It’s about time you got over this nonsense and started acting like the adult you say you are.”

The words hit him as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

Then she drew herself up to full height, and dusted non-existent fluff from her immaculate suit. “You and Agent Dingle will stay here until further instructions are provided. I will continue to post Agents Barton on watch outside and during any excursions outside the house you wish to take. That is my final say on the matter, and you’ll do well to remember what I told you before; step out of line, even by a  _ millimeter _ , and you’re in serious danger, Agent Sugden.”

She turned to leave, Leyla following close behind. She gave Robert one final, derisive smirk as she left, pencilled eyebrows arched. 

“You want to know something, Leyla?” Robert called after her, not bothering with the formal title now. “You keep expecting the worst of people, and that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

Leyla’s dark eyes bore into his for a moment or two. Then she sniffed the air as if smelling something bad, and followed Diane into the hallway and out the door, shutting it with a  _ bang _ behind her.

“Rob…” Aaron’s voice was quiet. He reached for Robert’s hand across the table and covered his tightly-clenched fist with his own, his fingers warm and reassuring, and the effect was immediate; Robert felt his tensed shoulders drop, his jaw unclench, and his anger slowly start to dissipate. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, ya shouldn’t have to be,” Aaron pressed. “Take it from someone who knows. Just because people want to make ya feel like you ain’t worth anything, doesn’t mean it’s true or that you should sit and take it. It gets in here,” he pointed to his temple, “and makes you feel worthless. I  _ know _ . And I don’t want ya to feel like that.”

“You don’t even know me,” Robert said quietly. “It’s been what, two days? Less than that? How can you say you know me when some of the people in my life who should be closest to me don’t know me?”

“You’re right, I dunno some stuff. I don’t know your favourite colour or what job you wanted as a kid, or how many pillows you sleep with or what football team you support,” he said, and then smiled a soft, gentle smile. It was as blinding as if he’d split from ear to ear with a grin. Robert’s heart thumped. “But we have time for that. But I do know you. I know you’re scared of what you feel because you’re scared of being different, of being strange or - a  _ weirdo _ , or summat. I know you’re afraid of saying you’re -  _ bisexual _ , or whatever, but it’s okay. You’re okay.”

And there it was. The word, the word he’d run from his whole life, the word he’d refused to say or even think because he was terrified of what it meant - there it was, on Aaron’s lips, as if it was the most normal idea in the world. The word he’d buried under the finest malt whisky and nameless men in his bed and telling himself that it didn’t mean anything, that playing the field came with the territory, man or woman, that it didn’t make him…

_ Deviant. Wrong. _

_ Queer. _

  
  


“I’ve never said it,” Robert swallowed, feeling himself tremble. “Never let myself. Not even after my dad died…”

He’d said too much; he bit his tongue, hard, tasting blood, panic filling him. “I’m not like you. I’m not confident enough for it. For…. _ this _ .” He spread his hands wide, indicating the two of them, whatever  _ it _ was they had. Or started. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Hey, I’m not askin’ for your hand in marriage or anythin’ here,” Aaron said, laughing lightly. “I...enjoyed what we did last night, and as much of an annoying prick you  _ can _ be, I do quite fancy ya, alright? And I would….like...things to carry on. The way they were goin’.” Aaron blushed, his cheeks rosy pink, suddenly bashful. “We can get to know each other, yeah? We got time now, since we both effectively just got fired.”

Robert looked at Aaron’s hopeful expression, his sympathetic eyes shining, a gentle smile on his lips. For a man who looked all hard edges and harsh words, he was impossibly soft beneath the tough outer shell he projected to the outside world. He was a beautiful contradiction of things that Robert realized took his breath away, each time he discovered something new about the rude, rough man who’d walked into his office and immediately challenged his own place in the hierarchy by demanding Robert respected him as an equal rather than an inferior, something nobody had ever done with him before. 

Nobody had ever had the gall before. He didn’t think anyone  _ would _ .

“Plus,” Aaron said, dropping his voice low, leaning over the table so that his lips were inches from Robert’s. He flicked his gaze over Robert’s face, lingering on his jawline, his lips, his exposed throat at the neck of his t-shirt and his shoulders clad in Aaron’s own hoodie. In a single move that was so fast Robert might have imagined it, his pink tongue came out to wet his lips, his gaze dark and lustful. “You’re wearing my clothes, Agent Sugden, and that’s quite fit, if I’m honest.”

All of the blood in Robert’s body suddenly rushed south, tightening his crotch and heating his skin from his toes to the crown of his head; he felt his dick twitch and swell, his whole body arcing towards Aaron without him even intending to. 

Robert reached across and kissed him, slow and deep, tasting the clean, soapy smell of Aaron’s skin and a hint of shaving balm at the hollow of his throat. He made a soft humming noise at the back of his throat and the vibrations made Aaron  _ purr _ , a low rumble that made all of Robert’s previous hurt and irritation melt away. 

“I should shower,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t get a chance to clean up properly after last night.”

“How about I join ya?” Aaron asked flirtatiously, “y’know, give ya a hand.”

Robert groaned at the implications of Aaron’s words; and then Aaron scraped the chair back from the table, throwing a look over his shoulder that screamed  _ Come and get me, then, if you want me _ .

And  _ God _ , did Robert want him.

He wasted no time in following Aaron down the hall to the bathroom, blindly reaching for the cord to turn the shower on; the hot spray streamed down sending up puffs of steam, fogging up everything, sending even more heat down through Robert’s body. When he took off his clothes, he heard Aaron swear lowly, saw him reach down to cup himself through his joggers and squeeze at the shape of cock, just as desperate for it as Robert was.

He stepped into the shower and the hot stream of water hit his skin like tongues of fire; it was welcoming, the pounding rhythm, and he didn’t even mind the dull ache when the jet hit the bruises on his face, washing away the blood and sending it circling down the drain. 

Distantly, he heard the  _ smack _ of Aaron’s clothes hitting the floor - and then he was stepping in behind him, crowding him close under the water, hot body solid against the length of him, from his lips on his neck to their legs tangled together for balance, and  _ finally _ Robert felt like he could properly breathe.

This. This is what - this was what it was supposed to feel like. A real connection with someone where the physical sensations were amplified by what you felt mentally, emotionally, psychologically, that gut feeling about a person where your whole body was screaming at you,  _ yes, yes, this is the right one _ .

Aaron smoothed his hand across the planes of Robert’s stomach, over the jut of his hips, his nails scratching briefly through the faint dusting of hair that led from his navel to his dick, now almost fully-hard and swaying between his thighs, which trembled from their combined weight. His fingers teased the underside of it before reaching around and grasping it firmly in a tight fist, making Robert cry out into the water and throw his head back, bent so that he was resting against Aaron’s shoulder. 

As Aaron started to stroke him, firm and fast, a series of guttural moans erupted from Robert’s throat without him consciously deciding to make them; water spilled down his throat and the front of his body, down between his legs, making everything hot and slick, and the gentle caress of Aaron’s rough fingers on the crease between his hip and his thigh only enhanced the sensation. Aaron’s breathing was harsh and hot against his neck, his mouth open in a wet  _ O _ against his shoulder. He could feel the scrape of his teeth and the press of his tongue, and combined with Aaron’s hand on his cock it drove him wild, drawing almost animalistic sounds from him.

“Louder,” Aaron grunted when he suddenly used two fingers to rub over the swollen head of Robert’s cock, catching the sticky pre-cum there with his fingertips and drawing them back down along the thick vein underneath, “wanna hear ya.” 

The demand sent him spiralling further into white-hot pleasure; lurching forward, he braced himself against the slick shower tiles, Aaron pressed along the length of his back to allow for better access. He sped up his movements, Robert almost bent double with his weight and the intensity of his pleasure, constant moans falling from his lips that barely gave him time to catch his breath. It felt good, so good,  _ too _ good, as if Aaron already knew somehow what he wanted and was ready to give it to him, somehow understood Robert’s body without him even tasking or Robert telling him. He needed to take that pressure away, needed that release, to forget for a moment what was going on in the real world and give in to what his body and his mind most wanted…

And then Aaron’s hand fell from his dick, leaving it red and leaking and practically stinging from the loss of touch. Robert groaned, then whined, thrusting his hips forward, searching out some friction that wasn’t there anymore.

“Aaron,” he begged, his voice lost in the thundering water, “don’t - don’t  _ stop,  _ what are you-?”

But he found out in an instant why he’d stopped, as he heard Aaron’s knees hit the shower floor and his hands spread apart the cheeks of his arse - and then his mouth, his tongue, were right on his sensitive hole and he  _ keened _ , letting out a littany of swear words into the water as Aaron started to lick gently at the tender skin, building him up slowly and letting him get used to the sensation, before pressing harder with the flat of his tongue and  _ stroking _ just as firmly and quickly as he had worked him with his fist.

_ God _ , he thought,  _ this is what it feels like, then. This is what this kind of pleasure feels like when you’re with the right person. This is what I’ve been missing all this time, with all those other women and other men. _

_ Nothing _ , he thought, lost in a haze of tongue and hands and fingers, trying to keep himself balanced as his feet slipped and his legs started to buckle,  _ nothing has ever come close to  _ this _. _

Aaron reached around to cup Robert’s balls and roll them in his palm, his fingers feather-light against the tender skin between his cock and his hole, all the while keeping up his ministrations, varying the speed and pressure in a way that had Robert biting down hard on his bottom lip lest he cry out so loudly he was sure he’d be heard from outside the house. The scrape of Aaron’s beard on his cheeks and lower thighs added to the intensity of his building orgasm, and he knew it wasn’t going to be long before the younger man made him come for a second time in the space of a few hours.

His hands scrambled for purchase on the slippery shower wall; he felt as if his very bones were melting, his whole body on fire and burning bright, as if flames were trailing from Aaron’s mouth and Aaron’s fingers and Aaron’s body, setting him alight and burning him up like a lit match. 

Then Aaron gave his balls a rough, water-slick squeeze and he  _ pressed _ his tongue, the very tip of it, inside his hole - and Robert was coming apart, gasping harsh lungfuls of moist, steamy air and warm water as his entire body shook and he came, spilling himself into the stream of the shower to babblings of Aaron’s name and devotion to a deity he didn’t believe in.

He came down trembling, Aaron pressing kisses to his inner thighs as softly as the brush of wings, fingers trailing patterns up and down his calves. 

“You got so many freckles,” Aaron murmured in wonder, “they’re  _ all over  _ ya. Bet ya tan really easily when you go on all these fancy missions abroad, eh?”

Robert, through his bone-deep satiety and exhilaration, gave a weak laugh, still trying to return his breathing to a regular pace. He’d never come like that before. Coming back down to reality was proving difficult. 

“Maybe you should -  _ ah _ \- come with me next time,” Robert said breathlessly, the teasing joke falling straight from his lips as easily as his own name. 

“Nah,” Aaron said, standing up, stroking his hands over Robert’s back, his shoulders, his arms, slowly bringing him back down to the ground. “I don’t really suit shorts. Legs are too big from runnin’.”

He somehow doubted that. Aaron was gorgeous, and the fact that he didn’t seem to be aware of it most of the time just made him all the more attractive to Robert. 

“You think you can get cleaned up yourself, or did I do a number on ya?” Aaron asked, stroking his hands rhythmically over Robert’s shoulders. The motion was domestic, intimate, soothing. Reassuring. 

“Help me?” Robert asked shyly. He felt suddenly vulnerable, childish, wanting to give all of himself over to Aaron and trust that he would keep him safe.

Behind him, Aaron grinned; he felt the imprint of it against his skin. 

“S’pose I can do that.”

He wanted to trust, with all that he had, that Aaron Dingle would not break his heart.


	7. Chapter Seven

“It’s blue,” Robert said, dragging his nails carefully through the curly tendrils of hair at Aaron’s nape, making him twitch and wriggle away from the tickle of it. “My favourite colour. Blue.”

Beside him, Aaron scoffed “Typical.” He rolled his eyes. 

They lay side by side, naked except for their underwear, skin pink and warm, just touching each other; Aaron’s hands on Robert’s waist, Robert’s fingers tracing the scars on Aaron’s stomach, not with any kind of repulsion or morbid fascination but with curiosity. They didn’t stop him from being beautiful, not to Robert’s eyes. 

Laid out next to him like this, Aaron’s hard edges were much softer and less apparent, smoothed over by relaxation and satisfaction and satiety. He smiled lazily, naturally, looking up at Robert with something like utter contentment in his eyes. Like he didn’t want to be anywhere other than where he was, in bed with Robert, right now, just gazing at each other and drinking each other in.

“I suppose I don’t need to ask yours,” Robert pointed out. “I’m sure you’ve cornered the market on the dark and brooding bodyguard look with the ridiculous amount of black you wear.”

“Oi,” Aaron protested, “it’s practical, ain’t it? And I like it. I’m comfortable in it. It makes my job easier too, it sends a certain message to people. Tells people not to cross me.”

“Mm,” Robert hummed, letting himself imagine that for a moment; Aaron in all black, fitted trousers and shirt, maybe a jacket over the top to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders. With his stocky frame and boxer’s build, and almost permanent frown, he didn’t doubt that he made a good agent, simply by projecting the  _ don’t even think about coming near me _ aura that had initially drawn Robert in like a magnet, interested to know more in the first place. “I wouldn’t know. I prefer to stand out.”

“Mine’s green, actually,” Aaron said, surprising Robert. “Like...forest green. The colour o’ spring leaves.” He went pink, biting down on his bottom lip bashfully. “Reminds me o’ Christmas trees and happy memories as a kid. And now that I’ve said that, it sounds really stupid…”

Robert thought of his own memories from his childhood, the good ones, the ones he treasured in the back of his mind despite trying to convince himself they weren’t important anymore. The flowery smell of his mother’s soft jumpers, the bright sparkle of her deep brown eyes, sitting on her knee and reading aloud to her from his favourite books, her helping him when he got stuck on some of the bigger words. They almost felt like they belonged to a different Robert Sugden, another Robert from another life, one who took a very different path because things didn’t turn out in  _ this _ world the way it had in reality.

His Mum died. His father hated him. He channelled his inquisitive mind, flair for melodrama and knack with interpersonal relationships, as well as his laser-focus and determination, into a career as a secret agent where he got to bury all of those things that hurt him beneath layers of a salary in the hundreds of thousands, silk sheets and real woollen rugs, all the beautiful women he could want and a licence to do serious damage to whoever Her Majesty’s Government told him needed to be punished.

He got drunk, he slept around, he pulled no punches - though he occasionally threw them - and moved on to the next job with the ease of years of practice and compartmentalization of his emotions.

Until Aaron. 

“No, it’s not stupid, I think I get it,” Robert said. “My parents...I don’t have a lot of good memories from when I was younger. Not about my dad, anyway. My mother, though, she was my real family. When my parents divorced, my dad refused to let her take me even though I kicked up a huge fuss. I wanted to go,” he said sadly, remembering how he’d screamed the house down, clung to his mother’s leg, begged her not to leave without him. “But I wasn’t allowed. Because she wasn’t blood…”

“That’s bullshit,” Aaron said, eyes hard suddenly, expression furious. “That’s the biggest load of  _ shit _ I have ever heard. Without my stepdad...or, well, my sort of stepdad...I’d be  _ dead _ .” 

Robert’s hand tightened on Aaron’s thigh, just beneath the silvery scars hidden underneath the dark hair there. His breath stuttered in his chest. “Aaron?”

“I have depression,” Aaron said frankly, matter-of-factly, his face expressionless now. “Battled it for years, messed me up really bad a few years ago, was scared it would cost me this job, actually,” he admitted, “Didn’t think people would want to trust a headcase with national security...but anyway. I was...not great,” he gave a wry smile. “But Paddy - that’s my stepdad - he helped me cope with stuff, or at least make it hurt less, especially after I -” 

He stopped then, going pale, his chin wobbling. His mouth worked, but no words came out. But then they did, all in a rush, so that Robert wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“Especially after I tried to top myself.”

_ No _ . 

_ God, no. _

“Aaron…” Robert whispered. He couldn’t quite believe it. He couldn’t quite believe that Aaron had confided in him, this massive thing about his life that was so private and that he, Robert, surely wasn’t privy to know after just a couple of days.

“It’s okay,” he said, blinking back the tears that welled in his eyes, sniffing hard. “It was years ago, and I promise, I am better and I have gotten loads better. I just needed ya to know so that...there aren’t any nasty surprises waitin’, y’know. Give you a chance to change your mind about…”

“This?” Robert finished for him, resting a hand on Aaron’s chest, over his pecs, where more scarring lay. They made more sense now, and it made bile rise in the back of his throat. Not from disgust, but from anger that he had suffered so, when he was so much better a person than Robert was. He knew that just from being around him for a short period. 

Then again, most people were better people than Robert, and he knew that, however much he tried to hide it. He didn’t deserve most of the people in his life. Maybe that was why he flirted and charmed and acted superficial and shallow, to push people away.

_ Don’t you want a real relationship some day? _

Aaron nodded. “M’sorry. I know it’s not easy to deal with, me being the way I am. But I wanted to be honest with ya, ‘cause…” He shifted on the bed, his hand coming to grip Robert’s hip, warm and comforting. “I think you’re not as much of a pig as you want people to think you are, and I want ya to know that I see ya. I understand ya. Even if anybody else can’t, or won’t.”

Robert couldn’t speak; he kissed Aaron again, letting his eyes flutter closed and felt the sensation of his lips on his, heard his breath in his ear and the  _ thump, thump _ of his heart, beating and  _ alive _ , under his palm. 

“I want to open up with ya,” Aaron whispered. “I want to try being...happy. I’m sick and tired of being lonely, and I think you are too, even if you want to think you aren’t.”

Robert didn’t say anything again; he couldn’t, his chest constricted with a rush of emotion from Aaron’s words, wrapping around him like a safety blanket. He shifted, burying his nose in Aaron’s chest, his mouth open on his collarbone as he felt Aaron’s hands come up into his hair, tugging gently in soothing strokes. Underneath his cheek, he felt rough scars and smooth skin and hard muscle, heat and sweat and the remnants of his own lemon-scented shower gel that Aaron had scoffed at before lathering up his hands and washing the tension away from Robert’s back, his shoulders, his whole body as he got him clean again.

“It scares me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His shoulders shook, nerves tangling in his stomach and gut; waves of anxiety coming up over him even as he dared to speak the forbidden words. “It scares me, being who I am. It scares me being alone. I don’t want to be alone forever, Aaron.”

“You won’t be,” Aaron insisted, and it felt like a promise.

  
  


***

  
  


It had been years since Robert had felt the lightness in his body that he felt now, with Aaron. The weight of everything - his life, his past, his job, his duties - lifting from his shoulders and chest and not feeling like they might crush him if he took his eye away from them for one second. And he knew, seeing Aaron smiling at him over the kitchen table around a mug of tea and a plate of generously buttered toast, that somehow the younger man felt the same way about him.

Normal wasn’t something he’d had for a long time. But now he was free, at least for a short while, to have something akin to what felt normal. 

“This is nice,” he commented honestly, taking a sip of his tea, slightly too hot and scalding his tongue but strong, the way he liked it. 

Aaron looked at him over his plate, confused. “We’re eatin’ tea and toast?”

“It feels normal,” Robert explained. “I don’t usually get a lot of  _ normal _ . Not outside of pretending for the job, anyway, if it calls for it.”

“You ever had to do the undercover couple thing?” Aaron asked, chewing thoughtfully. “You know, with - whoever you worked with before.”

“I did it once,” he replied, remembering the mission he had gone on with Chrissie White; they had to pose as a wealthy and influential couple, adoring and in love, a fake engagement ring on Chrissie’s finger and staged family photos in Robert’s wallet for appearances’ sake. He never told her when they were sleeping together that the false laughter and kisses on his cheek and the smell of her perfume in his nose when they pretended to be cuddled up and deliriously happy made him feel sick. 

Because it wasn’t  _ real _ .

“I don’t think I could do that,” Aaron said, “pretend to be with someone for a job. Undercover work is hard enough as it is, don’t need the hassle of creatin’ a whole other fake life and a fake person to be responsible for, you know?”

Robert hummed in agreement, busied himself with another sip of his tea. There were some uncomfortable memories there, and his first instinct was to quash them. He didn’t want them to rear their ugly heads. Not now.

Not yet.

“Is that why you left undercover work?” Robert asked. 

He saw how Aaron tensed slightly, shifted in his chair before answering. “Somethin’ like that, yeah. Just wasn’t for me. Got too intense, messed with my head a bit. Realized I was better off bein’ myself when I worked, as much as I can when you have to lie to everyone around ya to keep state secrets safe.”

“You have a sister,” Robert remembered, looking to Aaron for confirmation, who nodded. “What does she think you do?”

Aaron shrugged, finishing a slice of toast and taking a big gulp of tea. “Personal security. It’s the closest to the truth I could tell her, and I felt like she deserved that.” He frowned down at the table, pushing toast crumbs around with his thumb. “We’ve been through a lot, her and me. I owe her as much honesty as I’m able to give.”

His expression was wistful, edged with sadness, but full of affection too. He imagined it’s what he looked like when - and if - he allowed himself to think about his Mum. When things got too overwhelming or he felt like his life was slipping away from underneath him, he’d think of her and her soft embrace and it was like a release, some of the pressure of his day-to-day life and being who he was relieved for those few precious moments he was with her again.

“I don’t have anyone in my life like that,” Robert said, and he surprised himself with the force of what those words meant, breath catching in his chest for a minute. It was true, and it was painful. “My sister...I haven’t spoken to her in years. I’ve not spoken to my brother for longer still. My dad was a jerk and Diane - well,” He paused, swallowing. He looked at his hands. “Sometimes she acts like a stepmum and sometimes she acts like she’s never met me. It’s hot and cold, all the time, with her.”

Aaron dropped his toast, reached for Robert’s hand and stroked the back of it gently with his fingers, soft as the caress of silk. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Families can be rotten sometimes.”

Robert allowed himself a small smile, seeing the softness he felt when he was around Aaron reflected in Aaron’s eyes. He blunted his sharp edges and put more life, more emotion, more  _ feeling _ into him, and though the thought was terrifying, it was also exhilarating. Yes, he had had his ways of getting thrills in the past, usually through alcohol and sex and and showing off, but this time it felt different because it wasn’t the exhilaration of excess. It was the exhilaration of being human.

And, he realized within those same moments, that he wanted to share with Aaron those parts of his life that he did, genuinely, enjoy. The ways in which he reaped the perks and benefits of his title, the good things that came with the territory that meant you didn’t have to worry about not having enough. It was all right there for you, especially for you, as a reward for what you risked. 

He wanted to spoil Aaron. He wanted to shower him in the gold-gilded, sparkling champagne and thick Persian rugs lifestyle that he had worked hard to attain, to show him that he deserved it too. What he had, he realized, he wanted to share. He wanted to let Aaron in. 

Something from his childhood came to him then; the spark of a memory, the melody of a song and a handful of words, hummed in his ear by his mother as they watched films together on video when Robert was off sick from school, or just when he felt like it. 

_ I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid _ . 

It was from  _ Aladdin _ , the part where he and Princess Jasmine travelled on their magic carpet around the world, discovering all the new and amazing things outside their small corner of the world. It was cheesy, and silly, but as a seven year old he had loved it, had watched their journey around the globe with wonder and thought to himself,  _ I want to do that too. _

A breathless laugh burst from his chest at the thought; loud enough for Aaron to look up at him quizically with a frown. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Robert shook his head. Because there wasn’t, not really. 

An idea came to him suddenly, making his face split into a grin, still-bruised skin be damned. His heart fluttered at the thought of it. “Say, Dingle,” he said, “do you own a suit?”

Aaron thought about it. “S’pose I’ve got one somewhere, yeah. Why?”

He surveyed him appreciatively, eyes hooded. He let his tongue rest on his bottom lip for a moment, and he saw that Aaron shifted and pinked when he did so. 

“Can’t tell you that. It’s a surprise,” he said teasingly. When Aaron rolled his eyes in protest, he added, leaning forward on his forearms, “But if you go along with it, I’ll make it worth your while later…back here, in your bed.”

The meaning was palpable; he saw Aaron’s throat work for a few moments, gone dry with lust. 

“Alright,” Aaron replied after a while. “You’re the boss. You’ve successfully charmed me, or whatever.”

Robert grinned, feeling his insides flutter, like a teenager with their first crush. He hadn’t had that feeling since...well, since he was in his own teen years. He’d forgotten how new and exciting it all felt. Like anything could happen; like anything was possible.

He covered Aaron’s hand with his own. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

***

  
  


Robert cornered Ross just as he was returning from a supermarket errand, scowling as usual and petulant that he was being used for such menial tasks as buying shopping. Clearly he thought he deserved better than his actual rank, and it was one of the many things that rankled Robert to the point of actively disliking and even hating him.

“Forget whatever you had planned,” he said, “I’ve swapped your watch with Pete, so you’re accompanying me and Aaron tonight.”

Ross’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, yeah? On whose authority?”

“Mine,” Robert snapped. “And you’ll do as I tell you, Agent Barton, as repayment for your deviation from the itinerary the other day. You’re lucky I didn’t report you to the Secretary for disobedience.”

“Ooh, I’m scared,” Ross sneered, and anger flared up in Robert’s chest; he wanted to strangle him. Then he laughed, a bark of laughter that reeked of derision and contempt. “Fine. I’ll  _ escort _ you and your guard dog to wherever it is you want to go, but that’s it.”

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, wincing when he pressed on the tender bruising. “If you really dislike this job as much as you quite clearly do, why haven’t you resigned yet?”

Ross grinned, shark-like. “Then who would I wind up for fun if not you and your government lackeys, ey? I’d get bored, and then what would I do?”

“I’m sure you’d find  _ something _ to occupy your time,” Robert said tightly. He was getting on his nerves now. He really was someone you could so easily hate. And God, if Robert didn’t hate him with a passion.

“9pm sharp,” he said, levelling Ross with a disdainful glare. “I mean it, Barton.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ross muttered, waving at him absently. “Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but d’you mind? Your poncy milk is spoilin’.”

  
  


***

  
  


Robert was nervous.

He was  _ never _ nervous.

But standing in front of the small open wardrobe where rows of neat clothes hung, what little they had been allowed for travelling on a surveillance mission, he felt that funny  _ flip-flop _ feeling in his stomach and that tingling in the palms of his hands that told him that he, Robert Sugden, was nervous.

And it was all because of the man in the next bedroom over, currently examining his own wardrobe in the same way he undoubtedly was, Aaron Dingle.

He wanted to impress. He wanted to make Aaron happy. He wanted to see him smile. He wanted to smooth out the harsh lines of his forehead where he so often frowned and, for one night, give him a reprieve from all of the heavy stuff going on around them.

They could forget the job. They could forget Malcolm Foster and Stephen Collins. And they could just have  _ fun _ , the two of them. Doing what other people did when they liked one another and wanted to be in each other’s company.

He wanted to take Aaron on a  _ date _ .

The thought thrilled him, and filled him with fear all at once. He hadn’t been on a date in years, not with someone he genuinely liked beyond a physical attraction and not with someone who challenged him and pushed him and turned his body and mind upside down the way Aaron did. 

It had only been two days, perhaps a little more. But he could already feel himself falling into the dangerous and unchartered territory of something he was afraid of thinking about, even to himself.

_ Love _ .

He knew what Priya would say. She’d roll her expertly-lined eyes and pout her lips and give him that  _ look _ , that  _ Oh, Robert, pull yourself together, will you? _ look. She’d think he was delusional, brush it off as just another of his intense flings that won’t go anywhere because he was too afraid of doing anything more serious. 

And the fact that Aaron was a man...it barely registered, was a non-issue, because his feelings felt so genuine and so all-consuming that there was nothing and everything special about it, all at once.

Robert wasn’t  _ afraid _ of commitment, per say. Not really. He’d wanted to commit, once, and had been dead set on making it happen - until it ended in spectacular fashion, leaving him bruised and broken-hearted and swearing he’d never let himself get that vulnerable and that close to someone ever again.

The problem with commitment, especially in his line of work, was that nothing was guaranteed. No promises could be made because there was no telling whether or not they could be kept. Robert had known people, good agents, who had died or been seriously injured suddenly in the line of duty and had their whole lives cut short. He would even have considered some of them friends, or at least friend _ ly _ acquaintances, and each time it pushed him further into his own shell of isolation for self-preservation. 

He never wanted that to be  _ him _ .

So he forced people out of his most intimate sphere, separated  _ personal _ and  _ private _ and let himself be consumed by his work as an excuse as to why he had such a miniscule social life. 

But, then Aaron had come into his life on an order from Diane, and that changed everything.

_ He _ had changed everything.

He doubted that Aaron even knew or realized just how much.

And he wanted this, this evening, this…. _ date _ , to be perfect.

***

“You gonna tell me where we’re goin’, then?” Aaron asked, his words distorted by the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “Or are you goin’ to make me guess?”

Robert watched from the doorway, arms crossed, as Aaron busied himself about the small bathroom, as he put it, “gettin’ ready” - but as far as Robert could see, Aaron wasn’t the high maintenance type, so he was curious as to what exactly this routine seemed to involve. 

“Tellin’ ya would spoil the surprise,” Robert remarked with a smile, to which Aaron rolled his eyes. He did that a lot, when he was annoyed or exasperated, and Robert found it oddly endearing. “Plus, I can see that you’re not really into the whole champagne and caviar thing, so keepin’ it a secret means you have less of an excuse to argue with me on it.”

“You’re annoyin’,” Aaron said, brandishing his toothbrush like a weapon, “but you’re a good shag, so I’ll go along with it.”

Robert let out a bark of laughter. “Is that all I am to you, then, is it?”

Aaron’s expression softened, smiling around a mouthful of spearmint toothpaste. “No,” he said, with a shake of the head. “No, it’s not.”

Warmth blossomed in Robert’s chest; he looked at Aaron and saw his pink cheeks and tender gaze, and thought,  _ No woman could ever possibly compare to  _ him _. _

“What?” Aaron asked, clocking Robert’s intense focus. He’d been staring again, he realized, lost with his head in the clouds that were all  _ Aaron _ .

_ Oh, you’re in trouble, Sugden. _

“Nothing,” he replied. He let his eyes roam over Aaron’s form, the muscles of his back and the roundness of his arse in his joggers. “Just admiring the view.”

“Pervert,” Aaron mumbled. “Are you gonna leave me alone to get dressed or what?”

Robert considered this for a moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, he uncrossed his arms and sauntered over to where Aaron stood, with all the grace and focus of a predator stalking its prey - Aaron was a particularly handsome gazelle, and Robert was the starving lion who wanted him.

“No,” he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest, his face inches from Aaron’s so that he could watch the colour of eyes turn from sea blue to deepest midnight in seconds. “No, I’m not.”

“What you gonna do about it then?” Aaron asked hoarsely, teeth coming out to bite softly at his bottom lip, one eyebrow raised in a flirtatious, teasing gesture. It sent a bolt of heat straight to Robert’s cock. 

“This,” he whispered, and attached his lips to Aaron’s neck, pushing him up against the rim of the sink while his other, free hand slid down into Aaron’s underwear and touched every inch of hot, silky skin he could reach. Aaron gasped and groaned, hooking his chin over Robert’s shoulder for leverage, while the toothbrush dropped from his hand and clattered loudly to the ground. His suddenly free hand gripped tight at Robert’s waist, bunching the material of his shirt in his fist, pulling it taught against his body so as to better feel the hot, solid wall of Robert’s chest against his own. His heart hammered in his ears and he could hear Aaron’s own heartbeat, too, this close to him, crowded up against each other in the small space their one shared bathroom allowed. 

Robert sucked a dark bruise into the pale, tender skin above Aaron’s Adam’s apple, and he  _ moaned _ , loud and long, the sound reverberating off the tiled walls and sounding like a symphony to Robert’s trained ears. The rough trail of his beard against his lips was another different sensation again, one he relished as he mouthed his way down the column of Aaron’s throat, dipping below the neckline of his jumper to press his teeth against the skin of his collarbone. 

The moan Aaron let out was enough to make Robert himself groan against his sweat-damp skin, flushed with arousal and pleasure and smelling of citrus. He’d never met anyone who smelled as delectably tempting as Aaron did; he didn’t think it was possible for another man to smell this good, a combination of light freshness and deep musk and sweat, or perhaps he had simply never allowed himself to acknowledge it before, for fear of what it meant for  _ him. _

He wasn’t afraid now. Or, well, actually, he was - but in a completely different way.

Dropping to his knees, he dragged down Aaron’s trousers inch by inch, exposing muscular thighs dusted with dark hair and the shape of his swollen cock trapped in his boxer shorts, leaking a damp spot of darker material near where the head rested against his thigh. He softly pressed his lips to the pinkish-silver scars on Aaron’s thighs, feeling the other man tense up at first; but he soon relaxed again, secure in the knowledge that to Robert, the scars weren’t ugly or disgusting or repulsive, but a part of him that made the whole package even more attractive to him.

He nosed further upwards, over the hem of his shorts and the soft, loose material gathered at his hips, feeling the heat of his skin under his cheek and lips. The heat was welcoming against his tender face, though the bruises were starting to fade now from black to blue and purple. He didn’t know what Aaron thought of him like this; he hadn’t asked, hadn’t thought to ask for his opinion on whether his bashed-up face was a turn on or a turn off. 

When he reached Aaron’s cock, he put his mouth over the shape of it, hummed against the material and Aaron jerked his hips with a yelp that tapered off into a moan; he gripped Robert’s shoulder with one hand, holding him in place as he followed the path across the front of his underwear, feeling his cock twitch and swell and harden even more the longer he laved attention on it, getting impossibly full in his boxers. 

“Rob-Robert,” Aaron panted above him, “just - just do it, yeah? I can’t wait any longer.”

Robert raised an eyebrow at that. “ _ Such _ a romantic.”

“Oh, shut up,” Aaron huffed, digging the pads of his fingers into the muscle of Robert’s shoulder. “You know what I want, stop being so…”

“Cocky?” Robert finished with a red-lipped smirk, earning him a sharp bite of Aaron’s fingers in-between the dips of his shoulder blades and a placating cry of “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

Then he pulled down Aaron’s underwear in one swift movement and swallowed him whole, right down the base where his nose pressed against the soft skin of his inner thighs and he started to lick and suck at his cock, tiny movements that barely covered an inch of the hot, hard skin but had Aaron mewling like a kitten regardless; he could feel the head brushing the back of his throat, and each time he took a breath he could taste Aaron’s pre-come sliding down his throat.

Aaron’s hand moved from his shoulder to twist in the strands of his hair, forcing him to go deeper and speed up his movements, a combination of tongue and teeth and lips that had him arching his back, bracing himself against the edge of the sink with the hand not holding Robert in place. Breathy moans filled the space of the small bathroom, the space between them and Robert’s ears; he could hear his own breath, and Aaron’s, and his heart pounding in his chest and every spit-slick slide of his mouth on his cock, wet and obscene and so, so  _ good _ .

He pulled back, dragging his tongue along the underside until his cock was almost all the way out, the pink, swollen head just resting on his lips, and flicked his tongue over it; Aaron’s knees almost gave out, his body jerked so hard at the intense pleasure of it, and Robert threw one arm over his hips to keep him steady and stop him from falling. The rush that gave him, the thrill, of knowing that it was only his own strength keeping Aaron upright as he fell apart in Robert’s mouth...it was unlike anything else he’d ever experienced. 

It was  _ amazing _ .

Above him, Aaron swore under his breath in-between a rush of tiny gasps and moans, getting steadily higher in pitch - and Robert knew, instinctively, as instinctively as he knew his own body on the precipice of orgasm, that he was close to coming.

He sank back down, taking his cock wholly into his mouth once more, and  _ sucked _ , hard, hollowing out his cheeks with the effort of it - and then Aaron’s high-pitched gasps suddenly dropped into a long, low, guttural groan and he was coming, spilling down Robert’s throat as the head of his cock pulsed on Robert’s tongue, and he eagerly lapped it up, continuing to tease the oversensitive skin with gentle brushes of his lips, almost like kisses, to the most intimate part of Aaron’s body.

“Oh, God,” Aaron panted, petting Robert’s hair haphazardly, “ _ ah _ , that’s - that’s too much, too much,” he groaned, slipping from between Robert’s lips and letting his cock fall soft against his thigh. “Never been that sensitive before, how d’you  _ do _ that? Magic?”

Robert huffed a laugh, peppering Aaron’s thighs with kisses, soft and quick as a butterfly’s wings. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I hate magicians,” Aaron replied, snorting with laughter at his own attempt at a joke. Robert’s heart swelled with endearment. 

He stood up, wincing at the pain in his knees from resting them on the hard tiled floor, and adjusted his own trousers. He watched as Aaron pulled up his underwear and tucked himself back in, breath still coming in deep gasps, his face red and hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Robert wrapped an arm around Aaron’s waist to rest his hand on the small of his back, pulling him in close. He pressed his own erection obviously between Aaron’s legs, making him hiss through his teeth; then bent to peck his lips to his rough, bearded cheek.

“Get dressed,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tonight.”

And if Aaron was reluctant to let go of the heat of his body and the press of his hands on his waist, it made Robert smile to himself all the more as he left the bathroom, face pink and heart singing in a way it never had before.

  
  


***

  
  


Robert went back and forth over two pairs of identical cufflinks, one gold and one silver, as the silky bowtie he’d tied around his throat felt like it was constricting his windpipe and his heart beat in the very tips of his fingers with each tick of the clock towards 8pm, which was when he had told Aaron to be ready by.

He felt like a kid going to their first school dance, shy and bumbling in front of the girl in the pretty dress he’d asked to be his date. Except it wasn’t a girl but a man, a man with eyes the colour of sapphires and dark curls he wanted to twine around his fingers to see if they felt as soft as they looked when he was fresh out of the shower. A man with a smile like sunlight breaking through the clouds and a rich, rumbling laugh that made Robert’s whole body warm.

It felt grown-up.  _ He _ felt more mature, more like an adult, pursuing this man in a proper way that wasn’t just hurried fumbles in expensive hotel bathrooms or in the dark corner of a bar, their names forgotten as soon as he’d got his fix of pleasure and the implications of that shoved into a box at the back of his mind, thick with years and years of dust and sealed with his father’s biting words.

But he was tired of trying to live up to the expectations of a dead man. 

Aaron had shown him that he no longer needed to.

He paused over the cufflinks again. Gold meant luxury, decadence. Silver was just as bright but understated, simpler, more classic and subtle than its counterpart. He wanted to impress, but he also found himself thinking of what  _ Aaron _ would like best. Somehow, he knew that anything too ostentatious wasn’t his style; Aaron liked the good, old-fashioned stuff, the things that were staples for a reason because they stood the test of time. He was plain-speaking and unfussy. It was one of the reasons why Robert was so attracted to him, why he felt like he could come down from the golden pedestal he’d lived on for years around him and just be himself.

_ Silver, then _ , he thought. Silver would be best.

He took them out of their box and fastened them, the chrome shining in the light. He could see his own reflection in them; pink from excitement, but pale around the edges from nerves. The bruises still stood out underneath the salve and setting powder he’d used to try and cover them, but there was nothing that could be done about that now.

And where they were going, it would no doubt give him an edge. Not that he had to try particularly hard to get into the most prestigious bars and clubs; his reputation, status and outward appearance of wealth and rank did that for him.

But it didn’t hurt to lean on a threat or two if it came to that.

Robert realized his hands were shaking, compulsively smoothing down nonexistent creases in the front of his suit jacket and straightening his already ramrod-straight tie, and he knew that it was the effect Aaron had on him. He also knew that he needed to calm down, because he didn’t want to show him just how much his need for Aaron’s approval, enjoyment and appreciation made his legs feel like balloons full of water - even if it did. 

Oh, how it did.

He crossed the room to where his suitcase sat open, and unearthed a bottle of vintage single malt, one of his absolute favourites. It was expensive and richly-flavoured, the colour a dark amber, the heady scent filling his nose when he unscrewed the cap and acting like a soothing balm for his frayed nerves. Reaching for a glass, Robert poured himself a measure and drank, immediately feeling calmer and more in control. 

There wasn’t anything wrong with a bit of liquid courage, after all, and it  _ was _ a special occasion.

His phone beeped where it sat on the bedside table. It was Priya. Rolling his eyes, Robert opened the message.

_ Priya Sharma: Have you and the bodyguard killed each other yet, then?  _

_ Priya Sharma: You must be in hell, having someone watching your every move. _

_ Priya Sharma: I heard he’s a semi-pro boxer. Does that mean he’s good with his right hand? _

The mouthful of whiskey he’d just drank caught in his throat; he coughed and spluttered, felt his face reddening even though there wasn’t anyone around to see it. The audacity of Priya to tease him about this, act like it was one big joke...he bitterly imagined her and Leyla laughing at him over glasses of pinot grigio. 

She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand the  _ half _ of it.

_ Robert Sugden: You don’t know anything about him. Or me. Your lack of professionalism is disappointing. _

_ Priya Sharma: Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Robert. Everyone knows who you are, it’s not like it’s a secret.  _

He felt something angry and hot curl in his belly. Everyone always thought they knew him, from people he’d worked with only briefly to those who were somewhat family, like Diane. But he’d hidden some of the truest parts of himself from them for precisely this reason. 

No-one ever seemed to take him seriously, or even wanted to. 

With a huff, he all but threw his phone back onto the bedside table, where it clattered loudly and satisfyingly. Giving Priya the satisfaction of a reply wasn’t what he wanted. 

Robert turned back to his reflection in the mirror. Luckily for him, the otherwise rather bare room had come equipped with a full-length one, propped up against the wall by the bed. He examined himself critically from head to toe. Coal-black suit made of thick, rich material, cut precisely to his measurements and emphasizing the width of his shoulders and narrow taper of his waist, crisp white shirt that, if he did say so himself, made the blue tones in his eyes stand out and the golden edges of his hair shine like a halo. The silk tie at his throat drew attention to his pulse point and Adam’s apple; in some part of his mind, far away into the events of the night, he imagined what it might be like if Aaron kissed him there, stubble scraping the thinner, more sensitive skin while his large worker’s hands teased his nipples through his shirt…

His hand wandered down to the front of his trousers, where he was already getting hard from the anticipation of it, and squeezed himself roughly to relieve some of the pressure. A groan escaped his throat without him intending it to; his eyes snapped open where they’d slid shut, his body tensing, fearing Aaron had heard him somehow. He listened, but no sound came. 

Robert was in  _ deep _ . He knew that. His biggest fear now was scaring Aaron off. He knew he was guarded, careful. He had his secrets, as did Robert. Trust didn’t come easily to someone in their line of work, and throwing himself at the situation with his usual intensity might do more harm than good.

He heard a low whistle come from behind him. 

“And here I thought it was just  _ my _ clothes ya looked fit in,” Aaron said. “Guess I was wrong. Not too shabby, Agent Sugden.”

Robert turned to find Aaron in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, showing off his bulging arms and strong chest in an expertly cut black shirt that strained across the shoulders, not because it didn’t fit, but because it was designed specifically to enhance that part of Aaron’s body - and Robert’s mouth watered at the sight of him. 

Aaron regarded him with scrutiny, cocking his head to the side. “Bowtie’s a bit naff, though.” He uncurled himself from the doorway, revealing muscular legs clad in tailored trousers of a deep midnight blue and a jacket of the same colour thrown over one arm. Out of his pocket, he pulled a piece of black velvet fabric and held it up with a teasing grin. “Mine’s better.”

“So you  _ do _ have taste, after all,” Robert commented, his voice light. “If I hadn’t already met you I’d think you were gunning for my job.”

“Nah,” Aaron shook his head. “S’not me, really. I’ll leave the poncin’ around lookin’ like a peacock to you.”

“Hey!” He caught Aaron by surprise by tickling him in the ribs; he squirmed and tried to wriggle away, laughter high in his throat, gripping onto Robert’s arms for balance. 

“Watch it, this shirt cost me a fortune!” Aaron said between breathless laughs. “Don’t bloody wrinkle it or I’ll kill ya.”

“Luckily for you, I have strong feelings about looking smart and preserving high fashion,” Robert said, releasing him with an impish grin that made him look years younger. “It’s a nice shirt.”

“Why do I sense there’s a  _ for you _ added onto the end of that sentence?” Aaron asked. “King of the backhanded compliments, you, mate.”

Robert stepped closer to Aaron, inhaling his scent, citrus aftershave and musky cologne. “Not your mate.”

“No,” Aaron said, shaking his head at his own mistake. “Don’t s’pose you are.”

He surged forward and kissed him, hands gripping Robert’s biceps through his jacket. The force of it took him by surprise and he stumbled backwards slightly, before regaining his balance to frame Aaron’s face in his own hands, tilting his chin upwards with his thumbs and his fingertips feather-light over the soft skin of his cheekbones. Aaron was warm, and a contrast of sensations that Robert was sure he’d never get enough of. The small difference in their heights was another contrast he thrived on, the way Aaron was almost on his tiptoes to reach him, exposing the column of his throat as he reached up towards him and allowing Robert to breathe deep even more of that scent he seemed to carry with him wherever he went, something that was just  _ Aaron _ .

“We should stop,” Aaron murmured, pulling away just a fraction; cool air rushed into the space between their bodies. 

“ _ You _ kissed  _ me _ ,” Robert pointed out. 

“Well, yeah, but….the shirt,” Aaron said, gesturing to his own clothes. “I ain’t ironing this again.”

Robert raised an eyebrow at that. Somehow, the idea of  _ Aaron _ and  _ ironing _ didn’t compute in his brain. “You iron?”

Aaron shrugged. “Don’t take the mick. It’s this portable thing me mum gave me because she knows I travel a lot for work.”

Robert grinned. “Okay, that’s kind of adorable.”

Aaron slapped his chest. “Shut up. Or at least do me a favour and help me put this on?” He held up the velvet bowtie he’d shown him earlier. Robert took it, feeling the soft material between his fingers, shimmering a silvery-black in the fast dimming twilight of the room. 

“Do you really not know how to tie a tie?” Robert asked, wrapping the strip of material around Aaron’s throat, the heat of arousal flushing his body as he arched his throat to allow Robert better access. His nails scraped smooth, freshly-moisturized skin where he’d shaved that afternoon, the neat line of his beard defining his jaw in a way that made Robert want to grip it in his fingers and press a bruise into the skin with his mouth. With practiced movements, he tied it into a neat bow resting just below Aaron’s Adam’s apple, and if he noticed the way he gulped audibly as Robert’s fingers brushed the sensitive point, he ignored the creeping heat in his thighs as a result of it because he knew that if they started something, they’d never make it out of the house at all.

“Maybe I just wanted ya to do it for me,” Aaron said, as if it didn’t matter - but his eyes glittered, his lips curved into a vibrant smile, and Robert’s heart  _ swooped _ .

Actually, honest-to-God-ly,  _ swooped _ .

“Domestic,” Robert commented softly. 

“I told ya. I wanted to make a go of something real,” he replied, cheeks red. “Including the stuff my sister would think is disgustin’ and all gooey-like,” he added, with a customary roll of his eyes that was less a physical gesture and more of a personality trait for Aaron. 

“Is that true?” Robert asked. “Then, I should probably do this, shouldn’t I?” 

He reached for the jacket Aaron still had over one arm, held it out and gestured for Aaron to put his arms inside. He did so, shrugging his shoulders into it, and Robert pulled the front lapels around to fit it snugy against his body. Like this, with the whole ensemble, he was probably the most devastatingly handsome man Robert had ever seen.

“You’re the expert,” Aaron said, throwing his arms wide, “how do I look then, 007?”

Robert could hardly find the words; his mouth and throat had gone dry, taking in the sight of him from his highly-polished shoes to the way the colour of the suit amplified the jewel-like tones of his eyes, and the soft curls falling over his forehead. 

“Amazing,” he eventually croaked, nodding furiously like the bobble-head dolls his sister used to love. He probably looked like an idiot. “You look - amazing.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline; he was amused by Robert’s speechlessness. Then his face softened again and he smiled, shyly. “Not so bad yourself,” he mumbled, casting his eyes down to the carpet out of bashfulness. “The whole rich totty thing - it suits you.”

Robert snorted. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” Aaron smiled, his genuine lightbulb-bright smile. “Are you seriously still not gonna tell me where you’re taking me?”

“No,” Robert said firmly. 

From outside the house, a horn sounded, sharp and irritable and  _ bored _ .

“That’ll be Ross. I shoehorned him into being our escort for tonight,” Robert said, smugly.

“Why?” Aaron asked, frowning. 

Robert shrugged, then grinned, boyish and mischievous. “I like winding him up.”

There it was again, the playful eye-roll, accompanied by a smile. He touched Robert’s arm affectionately. “We better get goin’ then.”

“Yeah,” he said, sliding his arm downwards, linking their hands together suddenly in a brave gesture that surprised even himself. Aaron looked down at their joined hands quizzically, then searched Robert’s face with a concerned look that asked  _ Are you sure? _

Robert swallowed. Nodded. Drew himself up to full height, trying to appear braver than he felt.

_ I’m sure _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and visit me on Tumblr @robertssvgden and let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr @robertssvgden and let me know what you think!


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